Pride, Image, and Reputation
by Fanofbooks.Harry Potter
Summary: They hate each other. Plain and simple. But he's Draco Malfoy, and no girl escapes his charm. Even if it is stupidly smart Granger. But what happens when progress is actually made...from both ends, and a certain little bet between friends gets in the way?
1. There won't be a next time

"LOOKS LIKE ENGLAND IS IN THE LEAD, LEAVING THE SCORE 80 TO 30!" was the announcement as Hermione returned from the restroom.

"Did I miss anything?"

"You sure did, Hermione! We just scored thirty points while you were gone!" screamed Harry.

"But I wasn't gone for that long, was I?"

"Nope. It's just good luck when you aren't around," said Harry slyly, earning a light snuff from Hermione as she sat next to him on the top box.

The view was perfect, if you didn't want to pay attention to the match. The brooms were being ridden at record speed making them nothing but blurs in mid-air. As if that were not annoying enough, the Quidditch Gold cup was being held in Bulgaria, and the heat was unbearable.

'If only it weren't so _hot_ I'd appreciate the vacation. But hey, at least I'll be able to see Viktor right?'

Everyone rose in excitement, roaring and screaming in anticipation. Hermione snapped out of her thoughts and scanned the field. Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian seeker, and the English seeker…Hermione had no idea what his name was… were occupied in a dangerous dive for the snitch.

"IT LOOKS LIKE THE SEEKERS HAVE SPOTTED THE SNITCH AND ARE REALLY GOING AT IT! WE'LL SOON SEE WHO GETS TO TAKE HOME THE CUP!"

The crowd went wild when both of the seekers extended their hands and turned their brooms at a 90 degree vertical angle skyward…each neck to neck.

"OH THIS IS A BIG ONE FOLKS. IF ANDREWS CATCHES THE SNITCH, HE'S WON THE CUP FOR ENGLAND FOR SURE! BUT IF VIKTOR CATCHES IT FIRST THEN BULGARIA'S KEEPING THE CUP! JUST IMAGINE ALL THE POSSIBILITIES!"

Hermione rose with the rest of the crowd and started cheering for Viktor.

"Go Viktor! Go go go go go!"

"Hermione!" yelled Ron. "you're cheering for Bulgaria?!"

"Ron don't be a stupid git I said 'go Viktor,' not 'go Bulgaria.'"

"It's the same bloody thing, Hermione! If you want Viktor to catch the snitch, then you want Bulgaria to win. But if you cheer for England, then you'll want Andrews to catch the snitch. Simple as that Hermione."

"Well think as you may, my heart will always belong to England. I just want Viktor to catch the snitch!"

"But then that means that you'd prefer Bulgaria to win the Gold cup over England."

"But that's not true."

"But that's what you're saying."

"No I'm not. I'm trying to say that I want Viktor to catch the snitch!"

"Which means that you want Bulgaria to win! You're such a traitor!"

"I do _not_ want Bulgaria to win, I just want Viktor—."

"WILL BOTH OF YOU JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP?!" screamed Harry, his hands slicing the air menacingly.

Hermione smugly turned her focus back to the field and watched out for the seekers, but apparently they had both lost sight of the snitch.

The crowd quickly settled down and continued the normal cheering, Viktor and Andrews still at search.

"AND THE MATCH CONTINUES AS A PASS IS MADE IN BULGARIA'S FAVOR TO SUFRANC, WHO PASSES IT TO SHAFLUNT…OH, BUT IT GETS STOLEN BY WATSON WHO PASSES IT TO CHARLES AND…AND… **SCORES**!!! THAT LEAVES ENGLAND AT 90 TO 30!"

Cheers filled the air once again…the excitement returning to the crowd after the earlier disappointment. Hermione sat back down and sighed. She wasn't much of a Quidditch fan like Harry or the Weasleys, she was just a fan of Viktor.

Or a friend.

She couldn't deny the fact that the popular Quidditch seeker had somehow developed a crush on her during the few months he stayed at Hogwarts during her fourth year. That wasn't only a shocker to her, but to all of the school. She also couldn't deny that she had a slight crush on him.

No. It wasn't a crush. It was flattery. To her, no boy in their right mind would want to go out with a know-it-all bookworm. It wasn't even a consideration…it was a faraway dream. And finally, when _Victor Krum_ of all people asked her to the dance…

But she had likes someone else. That person also happened to be on of her best friends. Ronald Weasley.

What was it that she saw in him? He wasn't smart. He wasn't charming. And he definitely wasn't cute. He was just…Ron.

But that all changed in sixth year. It was all too weird, but slowly…she just stopped liking him. She started concentrating on her N.E.W.T.S, and Ron's smart and snide remarks about it didn't impress her. It irritated her.

And so was how Hermione went back to feeling nothing but care and _frustration_ towards the redhead. Nothing more. And frankly…

_It bored her._

What was the point of waking up every morning if you found no one to look forward to? What was the point of getting all dressed up if there was no one to look good for? No one to impress. All her friends had crushes on Harry, and that to her was just sickening. Especially since she knew all of his nasty habits and his _true_ self.

Sure he acted all kind and charming with the ladies he went out with. He acted like that with _all_ the girls he knew…except for her. To him, she was a friend. To him, she was just like another guy, another best friend to go to for help.

But with all the other girls…it was all flowers and chocolates. Complements and lies. Hugs and kisses.

_But she knew. She knew the truth_.

She knew that Harry ate without washing his hands…after having mud fights. She knew that Harry mumbled in his sleep. She knew that he blows his nose on his shirts when he has a cold. She knew that Harry had _stacks_ of not-so-good videos in his trunk. She knew that Harry's favorite snack was pickles with mustard, ketchup, and cream-cheese mixed together.

She also knew that he was 6'2 and had a six-pack; gorgeous eyes, fair and flawless skin, and an absolutely enchanting smile.

But to her…he was just Harry.

And if it wasn't Harry they usually liked Ron. But she knew his nasty habbits too.

Ron didn't bother to shower everyday. He changed his underwear ever four days _tops_. Ron drooled a pond on his pillow when he slept, and when he picked his nose…he liked to place the mucous he had on his finger either on his shirt, pants…or _other people's_ shirts or pants. And last but not least, Ron's favorite snack was putting sugar, mustard, ketchup, mayonnaise, salt, tuna fish, chocolate, and lettuce in a blender…mixing it together, and then eating the "sauce" with a celery.

They had even made her try it once, and she was sick for the rest of the day. She calls them pregnant women every time she catches them eating their "favorites."

And…if it _wasn't_ Harry _or_ Ron, they usually liked either _Zabini_ or _Malfoy_. Now **that **was hard to cope with. When Lavender had a crush on Zabini…she was about ready to barf.

But he was hot.

Zabini and Malfoy had that 'bad-boy' to them. They walked around the school like they owned it, and went through girls faster than a little spoiled rich girl goes through shoes. They treated the girls like _garbage_. And that alone was an understatement. Once they got what they wanted from the gullible girls, they'd dump them. Next day, next week…no. It wouldn't last that long.

Zabini had that incredibly alluring jet black spiky hair and piercing blue eyes. He was built, broad, and _demanding._ His way, or no way.

Unless it was with Malfoy. He wasn't afraid of Malfoy. He just respected him.

_Malfoy_ on the other hand, was whom almost _every_ girl dreamed of being with. Except for her. She didn't really have anything for the Slytherin King. The Slytherin git. The Slytherin 'player.'

She detested his very soul. His very presence she tried to avoid. But he was cute. Very cute.

And though she hated to admit it…she _feared_ him. She could still remember what had happened between both of them just last year…as the summer vacation was nearing…

**_Flashback:_**__

_Hermione woke to the sound of her alarm clock._

_"Oh ma-an! I am so freaking late!" she hissed, quickly pushing the bed sheets off her and stumbling out of bed._

_In the tangles of her covers, she tripped and fell flat on the floor. It was **not** a good day._

_Hermione dashed for her trunk and roughly lifted the top. She collected all her books and homework and placed it on the bed. She quickly raced to her closet and pulled out her school robes, and with a five-minute shower, she was out of the dormitory in ten._

_Hermione's hair was still wet, and she could smell her Herbal Essence shampoo and conditioner as she made her way through the empty common room. _

_And it wasn't until she stepped out of the portrait that she realized she'd forgotten her shoes. _

_How could she forget her **shoes?** She was sixteen for Merlin's sake!_

_"Oh this is just great! Just great!!" she whispered, her wet curly hair bouncing behind her as she ran inside again._

_Up the stairs._

_Down the hall._

_To her door…that wouldn't open._

_She grabbed the door knob and turned it roughly, but it wouldn't budge. She put her books down by her on the floor, and tried to open it again. This time with more force._

_"Dammit!" she yelled, kicking the door with all her might and then hopping around in pain. "God dammit! Why the hell is it such a crappy day today?" she asked, and then reached within her robes for her wand…which she had left on her bed._

_"You have **got** to be kidding me!" she said to herself looking skyward. "What did I do?"_

_She looked at the door as if it were her enemy. She was going to get through it…she needed her wand and her **shoes**._

_Hermione took a deep breath, took a few steps back, ran towards the dormitory door, slammed her body against it, and finally fell to the floor within her dorm along with the door._

_She winced in pain as her shoulders roughly hit the wooden planks beneath her. How could she be so disorganized? _

_Hemione slowly got up. She dusted the dust off her robes and briefly scanned the room. She limped towards her bed and took her wand, walked to her closet and put on her shoes. **Was there anything she was missing?**_

_Nothing came to mind, so Hermione simply walked over the door that was on the floor and picked up her books that were in the hall._

_She made her way pass the common room and out the portrait hole. She opened her dark blue binder and studied the schedule within it._

_"Friday…Friday…**Potions**?! Snape's going to kill me!" she panicked, and ran through all the corridors till she reached the dungeons. She slammed her binder shut and sped-walked instead, trying to remember what the lesson was supposed to be about._

_She turned a corridor and before she knew it, she collided with something and fell backwards, her belongings splattered all over the floor._

_Hermione looked up, and it was none other than the famous Slytherin King and Prince…Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini._

**_This was not a good day at all._**

****

_"Hey, watch where you're going will you?!"_

_"I'm so sor—Malfoy?" said Hermione, collecting her thoughts. "What are you doing out of—."_

_"What I do is none of your fucking business, Granger!" yelled Malfoy, getting up and dusting his robes._

_Hermione also stood up, just to meet up to him…but that was impossible since he was much taller than her. _

_"I was just surprised so if you'd just shut up once in a while, you won't jump to conclusions as quick! Now I have to get to class so move out of my way!"_

_"Are you challenging me, Granger?" asked Malfoy, lifting an eyebrow in question. He took a step towards her, making Hermione uneasy._

**_Was _**_she challenging him?It would be really stupid if she were. Usually she was with Harry or Ron._

_They would protect her._

_But she was alone, and though she was skilled and wise when it came to spells and dueling…Malfoy knew spells she'd never know._

_He read up on the Dark Arts, and God forbid she be exposed to it…in school._

_Wait a minute. She wasn't going to let **Malfoy,** of all people, scare her…she was Hermione Granger! The girl who beat him at every test. Who beat him at every subject….who slapped him in third year._

_And even though she **was** scared of him…she wasn't going to show it! She'd fail a test before doing that._

_"What's the matter Granger? Cat got your tongue?" asked Malfoy, taking another step closer to Hermione._

_This time she took a step closer to him as well. "What if I was challenging you Malfoy? What would you do? Call your father…have him contact his connections so that I get expelled from school?"_

_Malfoy clenched his jaw. He hated the fact that everyone believed he always ran to the wing of his father when in trouble._

_'I don't need that bastard for anything anymore! Mudblood doesn't seem to know that…guess I'll just have to teach her,' thought Malfoy, his eyes glinting maliciously._

_Hermione sensed the danger and gulped down hard, but noiselessly. She didn't like how his evil silver eyes were so cold and murderous. If looks could kill, she would have been a goner long ago._

_Malfoy looked over his shoulder to his sidekick. "Blaise…leave. I'll catch up with you later."_

_"C'mon Malfoy! We have to get…you know where to do you know—."_

_"Zabini I said get the **fuck** out of here! I've got…business to handle," snapped Malfoy, giving Zabini a pointed look._

_Blaise smirked knowingly. He knew his best friend all too well. If he got Hermione Granger as another girl on his list…he really would be the best._

_But judging by the looks on his face…this had nothing to do with adding her on the list. It looked like revenge to him._

_"If you get the house of Slytherin in trouble—."_

_Draco turned around to look at his best friend, deeply annoyed. "You're still here?! I **won't** tolerate another second. Leave…NOW."_

_"Fine, fine. I'll leave," said Zabini, and turned the corner Hermione had came from. He brushed passed her and gave a slight chuckle. That girl was scared as hell, and he knew Draco knew. And if Draco knew…he'd take advantage._

_Hermione looked at Blaise as he left, almost begging him to stay with her. Even if they were of different houses, she'd rather be accompanied by **two** Slytherins than by **one**. A **male** one. __A **Draco Malfoy**._

_"Scared Granger? You should be."_

_"Why should I be intimidated by you? You're just a pathetic excuse of a—."_

_"Watch it Granger. You don't want to know what I can do to you."_

_Hermione's eyes widened slightly in fear and slightly in offense. Was he talking about…**that**?_

_"You better not touch me, Malfoy, or I'll chop off your pathetic excuse of a crotch and feed it to your mother."_

_Malfoy blinked in surprise and utter shock. 'Where did **that** come from?'_

_"You'll feed my dick to my **mother**?! What the hell is wrong with you Granger??!!" _

_"Don't test me, Malfoy."_

_"No, Granger. Don't test **me**."_

_Hermione raised her chin up bravely and stepped forward, making them inches apart._

_"I'm not afraid of you Malfoy."_

_Draco stepped closer to her as well, his piercing silver eyes staring her down. _

_"Is that so?" asked Draco, his voice filled with venom._

_Hermione looked apprehensive. That stare…she didn't like it. It was unreadable…_

_Then, without warning Malfoy harshly pinned her to the wall, keeping a firm grip on her arms._

_Hermione squeaked in fear and surprise. She winced in pain as she was painfully pressed against the cold dungeon wall._

_"Are you scared now?" whispered Malfoy to her ear._

_Hermione squirmed in discomfort, her breath hitched in her throat. She heard Malfoy sniff in her scent somewhere by her neck, then lightly bit her ear._

_"Is that a 'no'? Well, then maybe this will change your mind…" whispered Malfoy seductively as his hand slowly moved up her side._

_He slowly moved closer and started attacking her neck with one kiss. _

_'Oh my God…he's trying to give me a hickey!' _

_Freaked out, Hermione tried to push his head off her neck and his hand off her side before it got too far; and while at it tried to push **him** off, but it was hopeless. His arms were stronger than iron._

_"Malfoy let me go," said Hermione, surprised at the firmness in her voice.._

_Malfoy pulled back from her neck and looked down at her fearful brown eyes. A smirk played on his lips as he took his hand and roughly clenched her cheeks so that her lips stuck out slightly._

_"Just wanted to let you know, Granger, that nobody-and I mean **nobody**- gets away from me. Sooner or later you'll fall…just like they all do…" he threatened, roughly letting her go and turning abruptly down the hall._

_Hermione massaged her face lightly, it was already soar and she'll probably get a bruise. But besides the physical pain, something else had been injured…her pride._

**End of Flashback**

That certain incident was basically her deepest, darkest secret. Let's face it…her life was just about perfect. Sure she didn't get the guy she liked…sure she got teased for being such a nerd…sure she got into life-risking trouble…and sure she wasn't exactly _pretty_. But her home life was almost like a Hollywood movie. Her mother loved her, her father loved her, and unlike most teens her age, she _talked_ to her parents about problems. Well, some.

She enjoyed visits from her grandmother and other family relatives. She went on "shopping sprees" with her mother and looked forward to Mother and Father's Day. Her father was always loyal to her mother and vise versa. They never argued in front of her or anywhere. They'd always 'discuss' things out…and never screamed at each other. She really could never complain about her home life. It was perfect.

"IT LOOKS LIKE THE SEEKERS ARE AT ANOTHER RACE FOR THE SNITCH! KRUM SEEMS TO BE IN THE LEAD, BUT ANDREWS…AGGRESSIVE LAD… ISN'T TOO FAR BEHIND!"

Hermione snapped out of her thoughts and quickly picked up her binoculars, put them to her eyes, and frantically searched for the seekers. They were nowhere to be found.

"Harry, where are they?!"

"Over there!"

"Over where?!"

"By the goal!"

"Which one?!"

"The on at the far right, Hermione. The one over there…oh shit!—" said Harry, his drink spilling over his pants as he tried to point Hermione to where the seekers were.

"Oh Harry, I'm so sorry, let me help you with that," said Hermione, taking out a napkin from within her robes.

She went to dry off his pants…but Harry stopped her. "Um…not to be rude or anything, but I much rather dry my pants off _myself_ you see. The spill's right…**there**."

Hermione laughed at his discomfort and gave him the napkin instead.

The crowd shot up in unison with deafening cheers…someone had caught the snitch.

"Aw man! Who caught the snitch?" asked Harry, looking up from his pants. Hermione shrugged and stood up to look at the field. There, she saw Viktor Krum victoriously holding the snitch up in the air.

Everyone around Hermione sat back down in a disappointed state. Hermione didn't seem to notice.

She started jumping up and down in joy. "YEA VIKTOR! WOO-HOOO!" yelled Hermione.

Harry tugged at her robes hard enough to pull her down and force her to sit. Hermione looked at Harry in confusion. Harry just signaled to look at everyone one else surrounding them, and only then did Hermione realize that she was the only one cheering in her box.

"Incase you haven't noticed, Granger, this side of the stadium is cheering for England. You're the only idiot here cheering for Bulgaria."

Hermione turned around and at the far seat at the corner of the top box was none other than Draco Malfoy.

Their eyes locked…Silver verse Brown. His eyes were still, emotionless, but strong…all too familiar to Hermione.

"Why don't you shut it, Malfoy?"

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, his face showing no other emotion but question.

"Give me one good reason why I should," said Malfoy, his arm casually leaning on the arm rest of his seat; his chin resting on his thumb and his temple on his index finger.

Most of the people were already leaving the top box, going back to their tents to pack up… dissatisfied with who took the cup.

"Give me one good reason why you shouldn't," said Hermione, as she too rose from her seat ready to leave.

"Cause I have no reason or threat to listen to anything your mouth decides to say,"

Hermione froze, about to start her way down the stairs out of the Top Box. She turned around to see Malfoy, in his same position as before…only his was smirking.

Hermione looked at him in automatic victory. "Oh but you are very wrong Malfoy," said Hermione as she walked up to him.

His eyes followed her till she was towering over him…still smirking. Still in that same position. Still with those cold eyes.

"Why is that Granger?" asked Malfoy, looking up at her without a single interest.

"You see, Malfoy, this year _I_ got selected for Headgirl. Which pretty much means that I'll have more power than you'll _ever_ have this year…and yes, you _better_ start listening to me," said Hermione, hands of superiority on her hips.

Malfoy's evil smirk changed to an amused one. He lifted his head from its resting position and, with help from the arm rests, got up to his feet.

"You know, you'd think you'd learn to not stay alone with me," said Malfoy, looking around himself.

"I'm not alone!"

"Oh really? Who's here Granger? Potter and Weasel just left after a Veela."

Hermione looked around, and indeed no one was about.

**_'_**_How could they just leave me like that…in the hands of this…molester?!"_

 Hermione turned back around to Malfoy and took a deep breath. She knew he knew she was afraid.

Malfoy looked at her with that serious look in his silver orbs again, and walked past her to the stairs.

But, as if to stop himself from leaving, he held on the wall and turned around to face the bookworm.

"Oh and Granger," said Malfoy, waiting for her to gather her courage and turn around.

Hermione bit her lip… '_just leave. Please, just leave!'_

"What?"

"Next time I won't be so nice," he said, turned around and walked down the stairs.

"THERE WON'T _BE_ A NEXT TIME!" yelled Hermione back, but he was already gone.

A.N: Okay, did you like it? What could be improved, what didn't you like…what did you like…ANYTHING??? Well, please REVIEW!!!


	2. Hell on Earth

"HARRY POTTER AND RONALD WEASLEY! HOW **DARE** YOU LEAVE ME ALONE WITH MALFOY! **YOU TWO** OF **ALL** PEOPLE SHOULD KNOW THAT **THAT **BOY IS NOTHING BUT TROUBLE!"****

"But Hermione—."

"**DON'T YOU 'BUT HERMIONE'** **_ME_!**…MALFOY! Does that mean nothing?! **Draco Malfoy!!!** YOU LEFT ME ALONE...WHERE NO ONE COULD SEE ME WITH DRACO MALFOY …TO GO AFTER A **VEELA**!! **DRACO M-A-L-F-O-Y!! **DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS??!! **SLYTHERIN KING**! **SLYTHERIN PRICK…SLYTHERIN BASTARD!!! _NEVER…AND I MEAN N-E-V-E-R DO THAT AGAIN…DO YOU HEAR ME??!!!!"_**

"But Hermione—."

"**We're supposed to be friends! We're supposed to be there for each other no matter what! We're supposed to be the Golden Trio. One is _never_ seen without the other…risk lives…_and the chance to meet a Veela_…for one another! I would _never_ do that to you guys! Never in my entire life!!!**"

"Look Hermione. We're sorry. But it really isn't our fault. We fell into her spell, but she really just wanted Harry. Harry…not me," said Ron quickly, placing all blame on Harry.

If there was anything Ronald Weasley feared more than spiders and his mother was Hermione. The way she flailed her arms and hands dangerously, how her eyes bulged out and pierced through his every nerve and sane thought…and how her face became so red. Redder than the Devil's.

No. There was no messing with Hermione Granger.

"Oh, so that's why you so willingly left me as well, right or wrong?"

"Hermione you're overreacting," reasoned Harry.

Bad move.

"**OVERREACTING?! _OVERREACTING??!!_ WE'RE TALKING ABOUT DRACO MALFOY HERE! FOR ALL YOU KNOW…I'M NO LONGER A VIRGIN!!!"** screamed Hermione, her finger painfully pointing to herself.

The place where these three friends were located at the moment was truly beautiful. It very much resembled a tent on the outside, but a house on the inside. Kitchen, bathrooms, living room, dining room, and four bedrooms were all included in this cabin.

Harry and Ron had been sitting on two chairs in the kitchen as Hermione towered over them both in anger…her voice could have been carried on for miles if it weren't for the silencing spell she had placed on the specific room.

"But you _are_ right? You're a virgin?"

"DOES IT MATTER?! IT'S NOT LIKE **YOU** CARE! YOU RATHER GO FIND OUT A VEELA'S _NUMBER_ BEFORE FINDING OUT WHETHER OR NOT I'M A VIRGIN!"

Ron abruptly stood up in alert.

"That is not true Hermione! We were asking Raquella if she had a _boyfriend_…not for her number."

Hermione looked at Ron incredulously while Harry slowly reached for Ron's robes and pulled him down.

"**OH WELL EXCUUUSE MEE! IT WASN'T HER _NUMBER_, IT WAS WHETHER SHE HAD A _BOYFRIEND_!**"

"Jeez Hermione, when you say it like _that_ you make it sound like we don't care about you at all," said Ron, slowly sinking into his chair.''

"I don't know, maybe it's because you **DON'T!**" screamed Hermione, furiously turning around and leaving the kitchen, and finally slamming the door of her current bedroom.

Harry took a deep breath of relief and looked at Ron with a lopsided grin.

"That wasn't so bad, right?"

Draco walked through the overgrown, moist and calm forest of Bulgaria where the Gold Cup had been held.

He could hear the birds chirping in the distance, and the hot sun receding to nearly nothing but a cool night.

His shoes and socks were wet, and made his every step heavier. His breathing increased as the forest thickened…his body skillfully fitting in between tall trees and dangerous plants. Where was he headed to?

_He had no idea._

That had been happening to him a lot lately. He'd just feel like taking a walk and before he knew it…he was in the forest…_again._

What exactly called him to the forest he had absolutely no idea. But by now…he knew the forest inside out. He knew it better than he knew his manor back 'home'.

And everyday it'd be the same. He'd meet up with some girl that goes to his school…if he'd in the mood, he'd bed her…and if not he'd schedule for another day. No girl got past him.

Sure Granger didn't exactly fall into his _charms_…but it wasn't like he wanted her to. He didn't want to bed Granger…that was just plain _disgusting_.

But he still wanted to make it clear that he could get _any_ girl he wanted. And what happened between him and Granger last year was just to test himself.

And Granger fell…

_Almost._

Something told him that the girl had no desire for him. None whatsoever. And that day proved it.

The strength in her voice when she told him to get off her was more than enough to shock him…and of course…_anger_ him.

Girls gave into him as soon as he touched them. They were his toys and play things. But Granger… she was one hard toy to break.

But then again…he didn't exactly _want_ to break her. She wasn't even that pretty. She wasn't ugly…not _sad_ ugly…but there were definitely prettier girls out there.

Draco stopped, leaning back in between two thick, close trees…panting as he closed his eyes.

"Meditating Malfoy?"

Draco quickly turned around, and stared through the dark at the figure struggling through the wild plants.

"It's me you moron."

Draco's form relaxed, skillfully retreating his body from the limited space between the two trees.

"Blaise, what are you doing here?"

"Where's your shirt?"

"Took it off on the way."

"Why? I'm not gay."

"What makes you think I want to impress _you_?"

"Don't tell me you're trying to turn on the trees…wait…were you just trying to fuck one right now? I mean, you _were_ in between _two_…maybe you thought you could have a threeso—."

"Get a _fucking_ life, Zabini. You're always coming up with stupid shit."

Blaise smirked. "Don't hate me cause I'm sexier."

Draco's silver eyes flashed in the moonlight as he looked at Blaise.

"In your dreams, stupid prick."

"Hey…no offense but the Slytherin King is getting old. No girl likes an old man's saggy—."

"Get to the point Zabini," said Draco, slowly walking towards him in a threatening manner.

"What I'm trying to _say_ is that the Slytherin King is loosing his touch with the ladies."

Draco stopped walking and chuckled, "That'll be the day."

Blaise leaned against the tree, crossing his arms in a superior manner. "You know it's true."

"Get real Zabini. The girls still love me."

"True."

"So why'd you say I'm loosing my touch? I just scored with this girl…what's her face…Raquel? Rochelle? Rachel? Well it was some Veela girl, can't remember her name right now. But I got her right after the match today."

"After going soft on Granger?"

"_What?"_

"You know what I mean."

"No I _don't_ know what you mean. I don't go soft on _no one_."

"Then tell me how…after two _private encounters_…she's still a virgin."

"Maybe I don't _want_ to get with Granger."

"Maybe you're just _afraid_ that Granger may actually turn you down."

"Hell no! _Granger_ turn _me_ down! Blaise, it's the other way around. I could get Granger if I wanted to. Key Word Blaise…_IF_." Said Draco, as he mimicked Blaise and leaned against a tree with his arms folded across his chest.

"Prove it, bitch."

Draco stiffened and abruptly stepped away from the tree.

"What is this, a challenge?"

"Maybe."

"It was a yes of no answer."

"Fine then. Here's the deal."

"So it _is_ a challenge?"

"No shit Sherlock."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Bed Granger. Make her fall madly in love with you and then…dump her."

"The same ole routine?"

"The same ole routine."

"What if I win?"

"I'll give you three thousand Galleons, and my father's encyclopedia collection of the Dark Arts."

Draco's eyes widened. "But that's not yours."

"It might as well be. My father's never home and my mother's dead…so why not?" smirked Blaise.

"What if _I_ loose?"

"_When_ you loose, you'll have to give me the _same, exact thing._ Three thousand galleons and your father's full encyclopedia collection of the Dark Arts."

"How much time do I have?"

"All seventh year. That's how much I don't think you can do it."

"…Bed Granger…bed Granger…" said Draco thoughtfully. "Why not? I accept this challenge."

"Great!" yelled Blaise, and also stepped away from the tree. Draco looked at him in curiosity.

"You still didn't tell me why you're all the way over here?"

"I had to take a piss."

"There're bathrooms in the cabin."

"I know. But I lost my key."

Hermione woke up to the screaming and yelling from outside. Helpless cries of fear, pain, and mercy.

Her heart thumping out of control she quickly searched for Ginny on the bed below hers. It was pitch black, but even so she could see that Ginny was also awake, stiff under the covers, her eyes as the only part of her exposed.

"What's going on?!" Hermione whispered.

"I don't know," said Ginny, her voice cracking with emotion.

Just then a hard knock came to the room door, but didn't wait for a reply as the person abruptly opened it harshly.

"Are you two alright?" asked Arthur Weasley, stepping into the darkness.

"What's going on, dad?" asked Ginny, bringing the covers down to her chest.

"It's another attack. C'mon, get up! Quick, I don't know how much time we have."

Hermione and Ginny, both girl's heart pounding loudly, shot our of bed.

Ginny was the first out the door, her father waving for Hermione to hurry up.

More out of desperation than anything else, Hermione jumped onto the floor from her bed, the top bunk.

Pain seared through her foot.

She fell backwards and clutched her ankle. Her eyes closed as her head tilted back…trying to hold in the pain.

She couldn't help it. The tears came as she clenched her jaw.

"Hermione, are you all right?!" asked Arthur, running towards her immediately. Hermione nodded that she wasn't, and bit her tongue so that she wouldn't tell Ron's father that he had asked the most stupid question.

"Harry! Harry come over here, hurry!" yelled Arthur.

Harry walked into the room, his face pale and his form tense.

"No, don't turn on the light! They'll see us," said Arthur and motioned for him to walk further into the room.

"What happened to Hermione?"

"Looks like she broke her ankle jumping off the bed."

"Can't you perform a healing spell?"

"Harry, if there's anyone worse at healing spells than Gilderoy Lockhart, it's me. She's just going to have to deal with the pain for now…sorry Hermione," he finished, looking at Hermione ruefully.

Hermione just rocked back and forth, clutching her ankle in pain, and frustrated at the tears that ran down her cheeks.

"I need you to carry Hermione to safety," said Arthur, as something that sounded very much like a bomb explode echoed through the air, more cries of fear and pain issuing from those outside.

"And where's that?!" asked Harry, as he carefully picked up Hermione…one arm under her legs and another supporting her back.

"Anywhere but here. Where are Ron and Ginny."

"They're waiting for us in the kitchen."

"Right. You four go and get yourselves somewhere safe. I have to help calm the unsteady. Be careful, you hear?"

"You too," said Harry, and turned around, Hermione in arms, and walked to the kitchen.

"What's wrong with Hermione?!" asked Ginny, untangling herself from her brother's comforting arms.

"She broke her ankle on her way here," said Harry in a hurry, as another bomb-like explosion pierced through the air.

"Harry, we better hurry, they're attacking all the cabins! It won't be long before they come to ours…we haven't much time!"

"Right," said Harry and nodded through the door. "Let's go."

It was war outside. The four passed by people without body parts, people begging for help, little boys and girls without ears or noses. They came close to getting hit by the soaring spells themselves…_so close_.

There wasn't a single spot safe. Not under a tree, not in a cabin, not anywhere. In the most unexpected places, a spell would crash onto the floor an inch away from you.

"HARRY LOOK!" screamed Ron over the exploding sounds that surrounded them, pointing to the sky.

"THE DARK MARK. WHY IS THIS SO FAMILIAR?"

"BECAUSE IT HAPPENED BEFORE!" said Ron back, and continued their search for safety.

They moved from place to place, and nothing suited the word "safety." There was no where to hide. The panic that seared through each of them was immense.

_It truly was hell on earth._

A spell hit the ground about two feet away from Harry, the impulse throwing him off his feet…the dirt blinding all four of them and finally separating each them from each other.

Hermione felt the pain sear through her foot once again, as she clutched it and looked around for Harry, or anyone with a familiar face.

"HARRY! HARRY WHERE ARE YOU?!!" said Hermione in a roar of desperation, tears of fear nearly choking her.

"RON, GINNY, ANYONE, HELP! HELP ME, **PLEASE**! SOMEBODY **_PLEASE _**HELP ME!!!" begged Hermione, but no one was in sight. Only unsettled dirt still suspended in the air from the previous spell.

Hermione started coughing, and then continued pleading, joining the other screams from those in her situation.

A spell hit the ground next to her…sending her flying farther away from the others. Her ankle was in agony, her forehead, her arm and her leg stung incredibly.

"**HELP ME PLEASE! ANYONE! DON'T LET ME DIE…PLEASE!**" yelled Hermione again, this time her voice a bit raspy from her previous yelling.

A pair of arms from a mysterious person lifted her off the ground and pulled her backwards.

She desperately tried to see who it was, but it soon didn't matter. She clung onto the person _knowing_ that her life depended on it.

She was pulled away from the commotion, the screams now sounding distant, as well as the threatening spells.

Hermione tried to control her loud sobs. Now burying her face into the person's chest, taking a strong hold of his neck.

Having no track of where she was being taken to, she prayed that the man that was carrying her was of good intention.

She looked up and secretly thanked God for saving her, and saw that the man that was carrying her was none other than…

_a stranger_.

Hermione was starting to calm down, her heavy sobs becoming light hiccups.

She wasn't aware of the small tent in the distance, or when the man entered it.

"I got another one! It's crazy out there. This girl was screaming Bloody Mary when I saved her, but she's calmed down _a lot_ since then."

"Are there anymore out there, Paul?"

"Alive? I'm not sure. How's Harry Potter?"

At his name, Hermione turned her head from the man's chest and looked around. She was in an infirmary, where many people were lying in small white beds, being attended by what Hermione assumed were healers.

"_Granger?!_"

Hermione averted her eyes to the man whom her 'savior' was talking to.

She looked at him, but she didn't see him.

Malfoy turned to lead Paul to a new bed at the far back corner of the room, and carefully watched him place her onto it.

"I'm going back out there. I'll be back," said Paul, and left the tent.

Malfoy turned to Hermione, who was looking around frantically.

"Damn Granger, you're a mess," said Malfoy, eyeing the blood that spilled over the right side of her face.

The gashes on her leg and arm.

And her purple, swollen ankle.

Hermione just looked at Malfoy, her eyes distant and painful.

"She's in shock," said one of the healers from the other side of the tent. "Most of them are."

"Get her to lie down and start cleansing her wounds. Do _not_ use magic," said the healer, as he gave a little girl some water.

Hermione laid down on her own…forgetting all about the physical pain, and just staring at the ceiling…depicting her future.

Please review! Oh, and guys…I'll try and update every week. Love ya!!!


	3. Hogwarts Express

Chapter Three: _Hogwarts Express_

The morning came deadly quiet at first, before cries of loss, trauma, and morn occupied it. Hermione hadn't batted an eye since she had laid down earlier that morning while it was still dark. And worse…nothing was really going on through her mind.

_He could see it._

"Granger you're the only one who hasn't gone to sleep yet. You should try and get some rest while you can."

_No answer_.

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "Look Granger, it's not like _I_ care. The healer over there told me to tell you that. So do as you want."

Still, he received no reply. That alone made him uneasy.

He was sure that Granger was to answer back…quick-witted and snappy as always. But she didn't even notice he was there.

Her wounds were completely healed, as if they were never there. And her ankle was cured as well…but she didn't notice. She didn't notice anything.

But now, she was hearing distant cries as those that survived the attack looked about their surroundings…finally realizing where their loved ones had been.

"Granger you need to eat."

"I don't think she can hear you."

"Granger you need to eat!" yelled Malfoy, closer to her ear.

Hermione blinked and looked to her right. "_Malfoy?"_

"Shut up Granger you need to eat."

"What are _you_ doing here?"

"Volunteering."

"A Malfoy never volunteers to do anything."

"Think of it as community service."

"What for?"

Malfoy's eyes flashed in anger as a house elf set her plate on a small table next to her bed. "It's none of your fucking business!"

No one talked about it. No one that lived it that is.

No one talked about what they saw. Like it was never there.

No one talked about what they heard…as if it was never spoken. And no one talked about how they survived…because some couldn't even remember. And some just didn't _want_ to remember.

The media was all over it. _Daily Prophet_, the _Quibbler_, you name it.

And for once, Hermione Granger avoided it all. She avoided the newspaper and all of its political information and current events. She avoided giving strangers the information they desired. And she gave up on dwelling on the matter.

It had been a "_Revenge attack_," as they called it. All the death eaters, free or from Azkaban, gathered together and avenged their long gone Dark Lord.

The Quidditch Gold Cup was the biggest they could plan…"intelligent studies" claim that there won't be another attack as great.

And it was probably true. Most of them had been captured that night that everyone so willingly blocked from their memory.

Harry, Hermione and Ron included.

Hermione would talk to them and all three would ignite a conversation as if nothing had ever happened. The first three days were awkward, but by the time Harry's birthday came along, it was like old times.

_Bickering_.

Ron bickering with Hermione…Hermione bickering with Ron. The usual.

"Hermione, why are you reading '_Preparation N.E.W.T.S. for the intelligent mind_."

"Does that really need an explanation?" asked Hermione, not looking up from her book.

"Actually, it sort of does. Its only summer."

"Its _already_ summer! I should have started three months ago…I _don't_ know what's gotten into me!"

"…freak…"

"What did you say?" asked Hermione, finally looking up from her book.

"What, you're deaf too?"

"Just wondering if you had the guts to repeat what you just said in my face."

"…What, are you deaf?" asked Ron, giving the obvious yet rhetorical answer to her challenge,

"Hey guys," said Harry, they both turned to him. "Let's grow up now, shall we?"

"Tell _him_ that! I'm mature enough to _study_…"

"OH yea, well I'm _sane_ enough to enjoy my youth _outside_ of books."

"Are you trying to say that I have no life?"

"No…you already did."

"_Ron!"_ cut in Harry, once again. "You're _not_ helping here."

"Oh, so it's _me _who's the odd one here? It's you two trying to calm down the horrible monster, is it?"

"More like trying to bring _alive_ the _boring, goofy-looking, totally-predictable bookworm._"

"What?! I _can't_ believe _you_ just called me all of those…_lies!_"

"Are they really lies, Hermione? I mean, you're really no fun—."

"So I _don't_ go drinking every Friday and Saturday night…it's called being _responsible!_"

"…and boring. And, let's face it Hermione…you're not exactly _gorgeous_."

At that, both Hermione and Harry's jaw dropped, staring unbelievably at Ron's bluntness.

"_Ron!" _yelled Harry. This was going a bit far.

"_What?_ It's true. There are _way_ better looking girls at school than Hermione here."

"A_nd _there are _way_ better looking guys at Hogwarts than _you_ _Ronnikins_!" yelled Hermione, standing up from her chair and letting her book slide off her lap for effect.

"Oh yea? _Like who_?!" asked Ron, also standing up and passing Hermione while at it. Harry just sat between the two, looking at his best friends miserably from below.

"Harry, Neville…"

"_Neville?!_ That fat _toad lover_?!"

He was right, and she knew it. No way Neville was better looking than Ron…even if Ron himself wasn't too much to look at.

But she had to find someone. She just _had_ to. Someone who will hurt his pride because he knows it's true…

"Malfoy!" yelled Hermione…amazed at her own brilliant come-back.

But, to Hermione's surprise, Ron just laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"I just _knew_ you were going to say that."

"Say what?"

"I knew you were going to say Malfoy. He's my worst enemy…it only makes sense that you use him against me."

"_What do you mean 'it only makes sense'?_" asked Hermione, getting very angry.

"You're so_ predictable _it's—."

Harry pulled Ron's robes and made a 'cut-it-out' sign with his hand moving across his neck. _He crossed the line._

Ron looked back at Hermione almost fearfully…because he knows that when Harry does that…its' because she's about to explode and put him in his place.

"Predictable?! _Predictable?!! _What do mean by '_predictable'?"_

"N-nothing Hermione. I was just—," said Ron, starting to sit back on his chair and loose his color.

"YOU KNOW, ONE OF THESE DAYS I'M GOING TO DO SOMETHING _REALLY STUPID_ BECAUSE _YOU _CALLED ME _PREDICTABLE_! AND THEN _YOU'RE_ GOING TO WISH YOU HAD NEVER EVEN _THOUGHT_ OF IT…BUT IT'LL BE TOO LATE!" yelled Hermione, causing the rest of the Weasley's to peek at their living room and try to muffle their laughter.

It was just another regular day in the relationship of Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger.

"Hermione dear, hurry down or you'll miss the train!"

"It's eight thirty! Train doesn't leave till eleven!" screamed Hermione from her room.

"Better early, dear. We don't live that close and traffic _may_ be horrendous."

"A two-hour and a half delay?! Highly doubtful, mother!"

"As you please, but I don't want to be rushing later on! You know how your father gets."

"Then I assume we should leave now. I guess I'm ready," said Hermione, walking down the stairs. Her school robes were on, and her hair was in a tight ponytail…the bushiness of it shown in the actual tail.

"Right then, your father's waiting in the car."

"Alright I'll get my trunk."

"Already in the car."

"Crookshanks?"

"Already chopped up and ready for dinner."

"Mo-om!"

"Just a joke, darling. He, too, is in the car, now get a move on and don't get your father upset."

Hermione nodded and started for the door.

"Um, sweet-heart?"

Hermione turned around. "Yes mom?"

"You're forgetting your shoes."

Hermione pushed her cart through the barrier, and at the other end crashed into another.

She immediately looked at the cart and its spilled belongings on the floor.

"I'm so sorry! I really didn't mean to…do you need help with that?" asked Hermione, immediately starting to pick up the books that were sprawled on the floor.

"I don't need help from a _mudblood._ I could do it by myself, thank you."

Hermione looked up at the familiar voice. She dropped the book in spite, and stood up with her head up high.

"_Parkinson._ Didn't realize it was you."

"What are you, blind?"

"I don't need to deal with you right now Parkinson. I have to go find a compartment…" said Hermione, and started pushing her cart pass Pansy Parkinson.

But she stepped in her way, making Crookshanks hiss at her.

"Incase you haven't noticed, we're basically the only ones here."

"So what, you want to have a tea party?"

"Merely trying to let you realize that there is no need to rush."

"I'm very well aware of that. But when one doesn't like a certain company, they try and leave as soon as possible."

"Are you trying to say that you take no joy in my presence?" asked Parkinson, her head tilting to her left on question.

"That's _exactly_ what I'm trying to say," said Hermione, and pushed the cart another direction…away from the Slytherin.

'_I'll just find a compartment somewhere in the middle of the train. I guess it'll be just as fun so long as Harry, Ron, Neville and Ginny are there.'_

Hermione pulled her trunk, with much difficulty, onto the train  and started her search for the best compartment available.

_They were all available._

"Eeny-Meeny-miney-moe…catch a tiger by the toe. If he hollers, let him go…eeny-meeny-miney-moe!"

"What spell is that, Hermione?"

Hermione turned around and smiled broadly. "Not a spell, a chant. Helps us muggle-borns choose."

"I see…but what I don't see is my hug," said Neville, and half a second later Hermione was squeezing the living breath out of him.

"Neville you got so tall!"

He smiled. "Hermione, you've gotten so short! You found a compartment yet?"

"I was just choosing, we have first choice, no?"

"I assume. My, Hermione, you've changed over the summer."

"Have not. It's just that my hair's in a pony tail…take no notice, it'll be gone tomorrow."

"Shame you think so low of yourself."

"Shame that most people aren't like _you,_ and agree with _me._"

Neville gave her a rueful grin. He was more handsome than last year…but not quite there yet. He turned around and opened the first compartment at his reach.

"I like this one."

"Why?"

"Don't know, just better get one and quick cause kids are starting to come in."

"Guess you're right," said Hermione, pulling her trunk into the compartment and letting Neville put it on the platform above.

"I thought you said students were starting to arrive. Where are they?" asked Hermione, seeing that no one, not even the lady that passes by with the cart full of treats, was there.

"I don't know. It's a bit weird, it's already10:30," said Neville, and looked at Hermione in an apprehensive manner.

"…do you think?…" said Neville, never finishing his question and looking outside the window instead.

"Y-you were there, Neville?"

It had always been quiet…but Hermione was never aware of how deafening silence could actually be.

"Yea. I was there."

"I didn't see you there."

"I didn't have the best seat in the stadium…but I was there. My granny was there too…"

"Did you two come back alright?"

_This was killing her._

She didn't want to talk about it anymore than Neville did. But her curiosity _always_ got the better of her.

_Always._

"Two sounds like an army," said Neville, breaking into her thoughts.

"Oh, Neville. I'm so sorry…"

"Oh it's alright. It's just hard being shoved out into the world by accident. But I guess it was all part of destiny's plan. My granny dying and all…"

"If you say so…" said Hermione, quickly reminding herself that the train left in about twenty minutes, and no one else had arrived.

"Where _is_ everyone?"

_Change the subject, it's the only way you'll avoid it._

"I'm getting worried. What if this part of the train is out of order or something?"

"There would be a sign."

"A sign that might have been put out _after_ we came on the train. You just never know Hermione."

"You're right. Why don't we search the other ends of the train to see what's going on?"

"Good idea," said Neville, standing up in a hurry and looking at his watch. "But we better get a move on…ten minutes before the train leaves."

Hermione stepped out of the compartment into the hallway…Neville followed.

"Okay. I'll take the left and you take the right."

"You're right or my right?"

"Just go that way!" said Hermione, laughing at his question and pointing to the direction in which he was to follow.

With that they both ran out of that certain partition of the train.

Hermione opened the door and stepped into the cubicle. She was looking at her feet as the door slid shut behind her, a soundless effect afterwards.

She looked up, and saw no one in sight.

"Hello, anyone here?!" she yelled.

_Pathetic question_.

She took a few jogs forward, moving on to the next portion of the train.

"_I'm _here_."_

_Oh no. __Oh, Lord…no no no no no no no!_

Hermione turned around. _Damn_.

"Anybody _else_ here?!" yelled Hermione to the rest of the compartments.

"No, Granger. Just me," said Draco, leaning sideways on the doorway, arms folded across chest.

"Oh joy. Listen Malfoy, I haven't got time for anything right now. I'm quite worried about the fact that there are hardly any students on the train and it's about to leave in ten minutes."

"They're already at Hogwarts."

"What? Wait…why would they already be at Hogwarts? Train leaves today."

"Scared to death. Most of them weren't even there."

"But…Harry and Ron…they didn't mention about going to school early."

"That's because Pothead and Weasel are at the front of the train. I saw them there before I decided to come to the back."

"I didn't ask for _Pothead_ or _Weasel_. I asked for _Harry_ and _Ron_."

"Same shit," said Malfoy, slightly loosing his balance as the train started to move.

Hermione panicked. "The train's leaving!"

"So?"

"So…I have to go," said Hermione in a rush…walking back the way she had come.

Draco raised an eyebrow and waited patiently.

_He **does** look good when he doesn't use that grease on his hair**, **_thought Hermione as she turned around to give him one last look.

_But he's a jerk and I wouldn't go out with him if he were the last man that owned a library._

Hermione went to open the door…but it was locked. She looked at the door in confusion and tried again. After failing, she looked through the window and saw no one in the partition of the train where Neville and she had been before.

Hermione quickly turned around. _They can't be **all** locked._

Hermione ran to the other side of the partition and tried to open _that_ door.

_No such luck._

Hermione turned back fearfully.

If I come out of here a virgin…I'll let Harry and Ron copy my homework for the rest of the year… 

Draco was still smirking on the threshold of his compartment, looking undeniably handsome.

'Slytherin Prick,' thought Hermione.

"Why are the doors locked?"

"New protection policy. Some crap like that," said Draco, smirking at the visible discomfort of the girl.

"Oh. That makes sense…" she said, more to herself than to anyone else.

Draco stepped away from the doorway and walked over to Hermione.

"I guess it's just you and me," he said.

"Lay _one_ finger on me, Malfoy, and I'll send you all the way back into your mother's womb."

"What _is_ it with you and my _mother_, Granger?"

"There's nothing wrong with your mother. It's her son."

"Oh, well that explains a lot," said Draco, his silver orbs staring unblinkingly at Hermione's honey-brown ones.

Hermione gulped down hard. The fear was kicking in.

She was alone. With Malfoy. On a train. With _chairs_.

_Comfortable_ chairs.

Comfortable enough for…

Hermione backed into the door…the train now at full speed, causing Draco to slightly fall forward as well.

His hands slammed against the back wall next to Hermione's head. He smirked.

They were very close. _Too close_.

"Scared Granger?"

"W-why would _I_ be afraid of _you_?"

"Experience. Unless, you're telling me…you liked it," said Draco, his head leaning forward again.

Hermione pushed him away just in time.

"_In your dreams!_ In case you forgot…that _never_ happened!"

Draco's face got closer to hers. "Look around Granger. In case you're blind…no one's around. _Again._ I already thought you learned not to be alone with me…and I already warned you what would happen next time."

"W-what's that?" asked Hermione, trying to back up more from the boy in front of her.

"I wouldn't be so nice…"

**I want to thank ALL of my reviewers…you're the ****_only_**** reason I keep on writing.  So please…REVIEW! **


	4. The longest Train ride

**Draco's face got closer to hers. "Look around Granger. In case you're blind…no one's around. ****_Again._**** I already thought you learned not to be alone with me…and I already warned you what would happen next time."**

**"W-what's that?" asked Hermione, trying to back up more from the boy in front of her.**

**"I wouldn't be so nice…"**

****

****

**Chapter Four: _The longest Train Ride_**

Hermione's eyes widened in fear. If he meant what she thought he meant…

_No. He'd never touch a mudblood_, thought Hermione, gathering herself together. She couldn't let Malfoy see that she _feared_ him. She had to be strong…she had to pray.

Gathering all her strength and will power, she tried to push Malfoy off her. He didn't move a bit. His iron arms had her there for sure.

Hermione, this time using her brain, tried to get _herself_ out of the condemning position. She quickly ducked under his arm, allowing her to stand next to him, rather than in front of him.

Malfoy chuckled that _sexy _chuckle that made every girl in Hogwarts go crazy and melt on the spot.

_He may be the biggest jerk I've ever known…but he's also the cutest one, _thought Hermione quickly, as she looked at Malfoy…his hands still against the wall.

"Nice move Granger. Want an award?"

"I don't appreciate those compromising situations with an enemy."

Malfoy slid his hands off and turned to Hermione, that famous smirk playing on his face. "Oh really?"

"Yes, really. And I don't plan on staying here the whole train ride with _you_ as company."

Malfoy's smirk grew, as he brought his right hand to his chin…his other hand supporting his elbow.

"Well, well, well. Aren't you a blunt and rude little girl? Almost makes me want to teach you a _lesson_."

"I doubt you'll ever succeed."

"Ouch," said Malfoy, his hands going to his heart. "That hurt."

"Oh get real Malfoy! You don't _have _feelings! You only have pride for something _you_ didn't work for. Your father did. _He's _your source of pride. And unless you're referring to that _reputation_ you have for going through girls faster than a human's heart beats, then you're absolutely **nothing** without your father!"

Malfoy's face contorted into that of _pure_ anger. His eyes narrowed into slits and his hands into fists. Hermione, nonetheless, stood her ground, her chin held up high, though a bit reluctant.

_If looks could kill, I'd have been dead long time ago_, thought Hermione, her courage faltering as she stepped back, again leaning against the wall.

"I-It's only the truth Malfoy…a-and you know it."

Before Hermione could take another breath, Malfoy slammed his fist onto the wall next to her face, making a _very_ noticeable dent in the Brazilian wood.

He closed his eyes, trying to pull himself together, but his fist remained against the wall.

_You don't want to make this girl hate you. You still have to go through the bet._

Hermione's eyes closed from the moment she saw his fist rise. She knew she must be pale…her heartbeat raced against time.

She didn't dare open her eyes, her hope that he wouldn't hurt her were now very low.

Damn bitch! I don't need that asshole any more! I'd teach her a lesson, but that'll never work on Granger. Just pull yourself together…the sooner you're done with this…the better. One quick shag…Zabini didn't even say it had to take ten minutes…quick, fast and easy. Want to avoid as much contact as possible with Granger.

Malfoy opened his eyes and lifted his head, retreating his fist from the wall.

He stared at her scared form, his lips pursed together. She still had her eyes closed, but her jaw was clenched as if trying to show self-control.

Her breathing was heavy, and her neatly done pony-tail was now a mess. Nevertheless, she opened her eyes…_slowly_.

"That was a little too close there, Malfoy," said Hermione sarcastically. "You helped save my life, and now you're going to end it?"

"I'd never end your life, Granger. You're not worth that much of my time."

"But I'm valuable enough so that you _save_ my life right?"

"I _didn't_ save your life Granger," said Malfoy in disgust. "I told you I _had_ to do it. I was _forced_ to do it."

"Why?"

"_That_ is none of _your_ business."

"Well, whoever _forced_ you to save my life, tell them that it wasn't worth it because you were about to kill me anyways," said Hermione, surprising herself at how sarcastic and calm her voice sounded.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and stepped into the compartment next to the wall Malfoy had punched.

If she didn't pursue him, it would show that he intimidated her…and she didn't want _that_ to be known. But if she _did_ go after him, she'd put herself in danger. On the contrary, if she just went to a different compartment…then he'd win. God knows _she_ was used to winning.

Damn Gryffindor Pride.

Taking a deep breath, she followed him.

"What do you want, Granger?" asked Malfoy, once again his face held between his index finger and thumb, while his elbow leaned on the only armrest in the compartment…one located at the far corner.

"Listen, I…I want to…"

This was harder than I thought.

"I want to apologize. I guess I hit a nerve back there…I didn't mean to up—."

"Save it Granger," said Malfoy lazily. "I ain't got time for your _apologies_ and _sensitivity_."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but quickly closed it as the train came to an abrupt stop, causing the door behind her to close.

She quickly turned around and went to open the door.

**_Locked_**.

_No…No! First I'm stuck with Malfoy in a **partition** of the **train**…and now I'm stuck in a **partition **of the **partition?! **The space between us keeps getting smaller and smaller…I knew I shouldn't of come in here!_

She tried to open the door again.

"Granger…it's _locked_."

"Why did the train stop? Surely we aren't there yet," asked Hermione, paying no attention to his comment.

"Dunno Granger. Maybe we're being…_attacked._"

Hermione looked at him sharply. "That's not funny, Malfoy.

He stood up, and walked over to her.

"You know, Granger…you keep on getting trapped with me. Is it a plan of yours?"

"**What?!**" yelled Hermione, making Draco take a step back in surprise. "You **think** that I want to **be** here with you?!" yelled Hermione, walking towards Draco as he moved backwards in amusement.

"Well **you** got **another** thing coming for you! You are such a conceited bastard that I feel like—."

"Kissing me?"

"**_NO!_**"

Draco shrugged. "Just checking."

"Do me a favor!" yelled Hermione, as Draco sat down on a seat in front of her. "Don't **talk** to me! I might be here stuck with you…but that does **not** mean we have to talk!" yelled Hermione, red with anger, and turning around to sit on a seat opposite of him.

"Granger?"

"**_WHAT?!_**" yelled Hermione, turning back around to see Malfoy standing before her.

"You look sexy when you're mad," said Malfoy earnestly.

"…_what?…"_ asked Hermione, stepping away from him in disgust.

She looked him over quickly.

Muscles, tall, fair skinned, stunning eyes, broad, beautiful hair…beautiful lips… 

'**What the hell is wrong with you Hermione?! Concentrate…you HATE him remember? Do NOT remember that he's a drop-dead-gorgeous centered, selfish bastard!'** thought Hermione.

"You heard me. It's a compliment usually girls say thank you."

Hermione stood still, frozen in her spot, inches away from him.

"Oh and Granger?" asked Malfoy…forcefully slipping his arms around her waist and bringing her as close as humanly possible.

She was able to smell his mint aftershave…_he smelled good._

"W-what?" asked Hermione.

He bent over to whisper in her ear, "I have no problem not talking."

He captured her lips seconds later, pressing his lips hard against hers.

Hermione's mind was racing…she wasn't thinking straight. She had never kissed anyone before…_what was she supposed to do?_

Before she knew it, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. At first, Draco stiffened in surprise, but he soon relaxed, and started walking backwards…bringing Hermione with him.

His arms roughly brought her closer to him, as Hermione did the same with her arms…

Draco sat down on a seat, his firm hold on Hermione forcing her follow him. Before she knew it…she was straddling him on the seat.

His hand pressed her head against his closer, and in one, slow, and skillful move…laid her along the seats…with him on top.

She's not a bad kisser… Oh my God…this feels so WRONG!…Wow… Draco Malfoy, my first kiss… 

****

**_WHAT THE HELL?! DRACO MALFOY MY FIRST KISS! THAT WASN'T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN!!!_**

****

Hermione's eyes popped open, and broke away from the kiss.

"What's wrong Granger?" asked Malfoy, not used to being turned down.

"Oh my God…this is _not_ happening!" whispered Hermione, sitting up abruptly…pushing Malfoy off, and in the confusion and shock…fell the floor.

"Granger…what the hell is wrong with you?" asked Malfoy, his forehead wrinkling in confusion.

Hermione got up and pointed to Draco menacingly. "Do _not _touch me!" yelled Hermione…sitting on the seat at the opposite side and corner of Draco's.

Malfoy smirked. "I don't get you Granger…you kissed me back."

_Don't remind me,_ thought Hermione looking angrily out the window.

…this had to be the longest train ride…

_When I get my hands on Harry and Ron…_

__

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__

__

This chapter is dedicated to Medina who is a COMPLETE fan of this fic! Then, of course…it's dedicated to ALL of my reviewers!!!

(P.S: Amanda, I'm waiting for a certain _event_ to happen to dedicate a chapter to you…;))


	5. On The Way to The Castle

**Chapter Five: _On The Way to The Castle_**

Hermione heard the door unlock from her seat, and quickly turned around to see the door slide open.

She couldn't believe it. It was almost impossible to believe.

"After you, Granger."

Hermione turned to Malfoy, who was gathering his things from the top shelf of the compartment.

"Why suddenly so polite?"

Malfoy snorted. "It's not out of politeness that I'm doing this. More out of impatience that you're still in my presence."

Hermione glared. "The feeling is mutual."

"How harsh, don't you think Granger?"

"Harsh?! You're to talk."

"Just hurry up and leave," said Malfoy, his trunk all ready.

"My pleasure," said Hermione, exiting the room.

_The nerve of him! How could he **snog** with me and then tell me to get out of his sight?! It's outrageous!_

Hermione opened the door to the other part of the partition, and stalked to her compartment.

"Hey Hermione. I thought I'd find you here seeing as I was stuck all alone in another compartment, I thought for sure that you'd get mad."

"The doors locked, Neville. Believe me, if I were given the choice…I would have been here the whole time," said Hermione, sighing heavily as she reached for her trunk.

"The doors _locked_? As in _all _of them?" asked Neville, standing up and helping Hermione with her trunk.

"Yep. And then shortly after the compartment doors locked as well."

"Why?" asked Neville, his face getting red as he settled her trunk on the floor.

"Oh protection I guess."

"Gee Hermione. What do you carry in here?! We only have _one_ uniform you know."

"I know. But I brought extra books and clothing so that I didn't have to wear the robes all the time," said Hermione, starting to roll her trunk out of the compartment…Neville right behind her.

"So were you as lonely as I was?"

I wish. But if I tell him that I spent the whole train ride with Malfoy…he'd want to know what happened. And I'm not a very good liar…

"Yeah. I was as bored as bored could be."

"Funny thing that the doors were to lock. I was stuck over in the other partition all by myself. It was actually quite frightening."

"Oh Neville, quit being such a chicken."

"Hermione!" he laughed, looking down at her as she stepped out of the train.

Hermione smiled broadly and looked up at the tall young man. "You know it's just a joke. I'd never be so…mean."

Neville faked a cough, "liar."

Hermione slapped his arm lightly. "Okay, okay. So I'm a _bit_ harsh in words…but Neville dear…I can't be walked over by people."

"People? I'm thinking more along the lines of Harry and Ron."

"They're _not _people…they're _animals_."

"Too true."

"You shouldn't be talking, Mr. Longbottom. You happen to be one of the many students that follow Harry and Ron's example."

"Do not!" yelled Neville, as they stopped to take in the scene before them.

Everything seemed abandoned lonely. Like the setting of a horror movie.

"Wow. No one's here."

"What do you reckon, Hermione?"

"I…I can't believe it!"

"Can't believe what?"

"I can't believe that I just took the Hogwarts Express with no one but you." _Better not mention Malfoy._

"And Pansy Parkinson…" said Neville, turning red as Hermione looked at him.

"How did you know Parkinson was on the train?"

"Well…I…uh…I saw her getting on."

Hermione wrinkled her forehead in suspicion and concentration. "I guess it's possible."

"Of course. Why would I lie Hermione?"

Hermione eased. He really had no reason. "Well…we better get a carriage before they're all taken."

"Oh yes…just look at the mad rush…" answered Neville sarcastically, starting to roll his trunk towards a carriage.

Hermione started after him, rolling her trunk as well. "Very funny, Neville."

"Hilarious," he answered, putting his trunk in the carriage, and reaching for Hermione's.

"Neville, you act like I'm disabled! I can lift my own trunk, thank you."

Neville looked at Hermione and rolled his eyes. "You try and act like a gentleman and they take it as pity."

Hermione smiled, putting her hands on her hips. "Well, if it's like that…then I suppose there is no problem in you helping me, then."

Neville smiled and picked up her trunk and placed it in the carriage next to his. Then, he stepped back to let Hermione into the carriage, before he followed.

"You know Hermione. You may find this a bit odd, but I feel sad that only three students came on the train today, and that one will be very lonely in a carriage all by herself."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean Pansy Parkinson. She must be alone in some carriage…"

"Neville, please. She'd rather be alone than in our presence."

Neville seemed to frown at this, and looked up to Hermione sadly. "Yea, I guess so."

"Don't tell me you like her!"

"Of course not, Hermione! It's just…as you mature I guess…you start wishing that there were no houses and no segregation in school. I'm tired of the same old Gryffindors. I want to meet other people…like Slytherins. Yea they're a bit cold—."

"_A bit?_"

"Okay, very cold. But wouldn't you like to get to know them?"

"No."

"Why? You know, not all Slytherins are like Malfoy. I understand if you never want to see _him_ again. I'd kill you if you started to talk to him civilly. Hell, our whole house would!"

Hermione shrunk in her seat. If they'd kill her if she started _talking_ to him, imagine what they'd do if they found out she _kissed_ him. That _she_ kissed _him_ back.

"But that's not the point. I know you're not that stupid, cause if he starts talking to you…you know what he wants."

"Yes, Neville. I'm very aware of that."

"But what about other Slytherins that have never given us problems?"

"Like who?"

"Like Rajendri Kunjbehari."

"What about her?"

"She's never really bothered us."

"She's in Ravenclaw."

"She is? Oh, well then what about Asia Alani?"

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes at him. "Neville she's in Hufflepuff."

"She is? Then what about—."

"Neville, give it up! There is not _one_ Slytherin that has not done us harm. _Not one._"

"Guess you're right. Are we almost there yet?"

"In about five minutes."

"What about Elvin Balic?"

"Neville!"

Draco stepped into the carriage, Pansy Parkinson already waiting inside.

"Draco you look mighty fancy this year."

"I look mighty fancy every year," said Draco smugly.

Pansy bit the side of her lip and slid over a bit closer to Draco. "I know."

Draco extended his arm along the seats, his left arm on an armrest, his chin relaxing on his left hand.

Pansy took this as an invitation and mover closer, so that her head snuggled along his chest.

He rolled his eyes and sighed in impatience. "What the fuck are you doing Parkinson?"

Pansy looked up at Draco with innocent-wannabe eyes. "I just wanted to _cuddle_ with you, baby."

His face contorted in disgust, but she didn't see a thing as her head returned to its previous position.

Her right hand moved to the buttons on his shirt, her finger delicately tracing them down to his belt.

Draco cocked an eyebrow and smirked. _Is she really that desperate?_

Her hand slowly moved back up the same tracks it had come, now working at unbuttoning the first three buttons.

_Yea. She must have not had any **good stuff** over the summer._

His first three buttons were unbuttoned, her hand was caressing the newly exposed skin. She sighed deeply and moved closer, her hand back to unbuttoning the buttons on his shirt.

I guess I could use a good lay as of right now. And Pansy was never a bad choice…always a good rebound when bored. 

She started to kiss his neck, both her hands working on unbuckling his belt.

Draco clasped her hands and kept them tight within his painful grip. Pansy retreated her head from his neck and looked at him in a surprised manner.

"Draco?"

He smirked as Pansy tried to get her hands out of his grip, making his hands grab her wrists for a more secure hold.

He leaned his complete body weight forward, Pansy now laying along the carriage seats. She giggled as his hands moved to pull up her skirt, slowly feeling on her legs as he did so.

He leaned forward by her ear. "You know I'm the one that makes the moves first…the ladies are second…"

Pansy leaned up and bit his ear, "My mistake."

"Hey! What's up Hermione?" asked Harry, his arms open and welcoming as Hermione stepped out of the carriage.

Hermione smiled broadly, opening her arms as well. "Where were you?"

"I was called by Dumbledore to come early…and Ron just came along."

"Speaking of which," she said, separating from the hug. "Where is Ronald Weasley?"

"Trying to get a girl."

"Are you serious?"

"Yep. He's succeeding too. He almost got laid six—."

"_Okay_! Thank you, but no…don't want too many details!"

"Fine, fine…oh hey, Neville!"

"Hey, Harry. How's it been at Hogwarts?" asked Neville as they started to make their way towards the castle.

"Like a big party. No class, no homework…it's great!"

"Well…that's a lot better than the long train ride Hermione and I just had to go through."

"Ha, ha! You should have come early!"

Hermione wrinkled her forehead in confusion. _Didn't Malfoy say that he and Ron were at the front of the train?_

But obviously she wasn't going to ask…that would mean having to say that she heard it from Malfoy…and then explain why she was even **talking** to him…and they were **bound** to ask what happened the rest of the train ride…and she was a horrible liar therefore needing to explain exactly **what** happened.

"I didn't know anything about being allowed to go to school early. But that's quite alright. I got to spend some time with my mother…"said Hermione.

"Aww…you're such a goody-two-shoes, Hermione."

Hermione turned around, and sighed impatiently. "At it again, Ron?"

"You know it's love," said Ron, his arms welcoming her into a hug she gladly gave. "Neville, you're here!"

"No I'm _here_…."

"Well, yea…you're _here_."

"But I'm not _there…_I'm _here_."

Ron wrinkled his forehead in confusion. "_Here _with_ us_."

"I'm here, but not _there_."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other in befuddlement. Harry's head gave one quick nod towards the castle, and Hermione followed.

Ron and Neville were left there settling their…_here's_ and _there's_.

"So, you care to tell me why your lips are all smudged?"

"Smudged?" asked Harry.

"Smudged. As in…you were making out with someone and I want to know who!" said Hermione, linking her arm with his and giving him a teasing smile.

Harry bit his lip out of embarrassment and attempt to not smile. "It was no one."

"Who?!"

"Fine, fine. It was Catherine," said Harry, his cheeks getting red as his eyes wandered to the sky.

"Catherine?! Catherine in Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin?"

Harry turned to her abruptly. "You know I'd _never_ go out with a Slytherin. Or a Hufflepuff. So that leaves…"

"Catherine Zunille!"

"Yea. Her, the one with the big—."

"I know, I know. Big breast."

"They're real you know," said Harry, opening the door for Hermione. "If felt them."

Hermione turned to Harry in utter disgust and surprise.

"What?!"

"What?"

"Harry Potter, you are the most disgusting womanizer I know!!! Feeling on her body when you've met for no more than two days!!"

"Love has no boundaries. And neither does lust."

Hermione smiled that I-can't-believe-you-just-said-that smile. "_Bitch_!"

"It's pimp, Hermione."

"_What_ do they _see_ in _you?!"_

"One sexy bastard."

"And so very modest," said Hermione sarcastically as she climbed the stairs.

"Well, well, well. Look at who it is. Pothead and…_Granger_."

"Move out of our way, Malfoy," said Harry, already reaching for his wand.

"Don't think I will. It's much too fun teasing you, Potter," said Malfoy, descending the rest of the stairs till he reached them.

"Well you have all year so how about a rain-check?"

"How's about you leave me and Granger here to discuss a little something we have in debt?"

"Are you insane?! I don't trust you…even if it _is_ with Hermione."

Hermione turned to Harry with a cocked eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It _means,_ Granger…that he thinks you're so bloody disgusting that I won't touch you."

Hermione turned her head to Malfoy. "I don't remember asking you, you fool."

Malfoy smirked. "I don't need to be asked."

"Malfoy, just leave us alone."

"Potter's free to go, Granger," said Malfoy, nodding his head as if it was the best offer he could give her. "it's _you _I want to…_not_ talk to," he said, winking.

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, "Then leave _me_ alone."

"That's not what you said on the train," said Malfoy, a smirk growing on his face. "C'mon Granger. Don't tell me you're…_scared._"

Hermione turned to Harry, who was looking at her suspiciously. "Harry leave us alone. If anything, I'll scream."

"Hermione I'm _not_ leaving you alone with this—."

"Harry! I can take care of myself…now go!"

"Don't be stubborn! He'll fucking rape you on the spot and if he does _anything_ like it—."

"I won't. I'm not desperate," said Malfoy, his face twisting into a sickened expression at the mere thought.

"Fine. Touch her and I'll fucking _kill_ you…and you _know _I can."

"Great," said Malfoy, grabbing Hermione by the elbow and pulling her down the stairs.

"Hermione, I'm right here."

"Harry just go!"

"I'm waiting right here!"

"This might take a while," said Hermione, wincing slightly at the harshness of Malfoy's grip.

"In that case…I'll wait fifteen minutes."

"Fine. But don't go looking for me!" said Hermione, but she had already disappeared into a dark hallway.

If this turns out to be another mistake she made because of her pride…_she'll never forgive Harry…_


	6. In Slytherin Territory

**Chapter six: **

Hermione bit her lip and wrinkled her forehead., Malfoy silently guiding her through the dark.

"Malfoy, where _are_ we going?"

Malfoy didn't answer anything, turning  left to a darker hallway. They had been descending stairs, going up stairs, through doors and a whole bunch of other things she wasn't able to see due to the dark.

"Malfoy, I asked you a question."

"And that's supposed to mean something to me?"

Hermione yanked her elbow out of his grip and stopped dead in her tracks.

"_Where_ are we _going_?!"

Malfoy turned around to face her, an impatience feature playing on his face. "Where no one can hear us."

Hermione stiffened. "Is that supposed to calm me down? You know I could just call Harry and—."

"Granger will you calm down?!" yelled Malfoy, his hand reaching for the bridge of his nose as his eyes closed in frustration and concentration.

_He looks really hot doing that, _admitted Hermione resentfully.

"Look," said Malfoy, his hand back to his side and his eyes once again open. "I just want to talk. I'm not taking you to a hotel…not that I _need_ one," said Malfoy, a smirk growing on his face.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me! You expect me to go _anywhere_ farther with you when you just finished saying _that_?! If you've _got_ something to say, tell me right _here_."

"Granger…_trust_ me. We can't—."

"Trust you? _Trust you?!_ You want _me_ to trust _you_?! Are you **insane**? I'd eat dog shit before I trust _you_!"

Malfoy's smirk grew as he started walking closer to Hermione.

_Oh no, not again._

Hermione put her hands in front of her, stopping Malfoy in his tracks.

 "Oh no you don't! You are _not_ touching me again…do you hear me?! You think I'm easy prey? That you could just _add_ me to that _long_ list of girls you have? You think I'm like those girls that fall for those _pitiable_ charms of yours?! Do you?! I may not be very pretty Malfoy,  but I'm not stupid. I know what you're after and let me tell you something; I am _sick_ and _tired_ of _you_ and your _pathetic_ ideas for trying to play me for a _fool_. It's **over**. I am _not_ some doll you can play with, nor some whore you can _fuck_ on a one-night-stand! I have _morals_, Malfoy. And **that** is something you will **never** take away from me," finished Hermione breathing hard after her speech.

She abruptly turned around and started walking back the way she came…

Only  problem was that she had no idea where she was.

She looked around hectically. All she needed to be was in—

She felt two strong arms wrap around her waist from the back. "Slytherin territory," he whispered into her ear.

Hermione's eyes widened. "You brought me to _Slytherin territory_?!" whispered Hermione, turning to face him in alarm…still within his arms.

The closeness made Hermione blush, and Draco was surprised when he was not able to keep his eyes trained on hers.

He let her go.

"Yea. You got a problem with that Granger?"

"Oh, well let's see. For centuries now, Gryffindor and Slytherin have been mortal enemies. Now, that being an understatement, why would I be scared to be in Slytherin Territory?"

Malfoy smirked at her, taking in how her hands were placed on her hips and how her eyes wandered to the ceiling in sarcasm.

"Tsk, tsk Granger. What happened to that Gryffindor courage you lot seem so proud of?"

"I'm _not_ afraid. It's just not very smart if I stay here, so if you please…take me back to known territory."

"I don't think I will. So the quicker you follow, the quicker you'll get back to where you belong."

Hermione grimaced. "You're too kind."

Malfoy smirked and turned around, his robes swishing behind him as he stalked down the hall again. Hermione had to jog to keep up, and was quickly out of breath by the time Draco turned onto another hallway.

"Malfoy, do you think you could just sl—."

He stopped in his tracks, looking over his shoulder. "Shh!"

Hermione froze in her spot, her eyes wide and humorous, clearly speaking her thoughts that Malfoy had lost his mind.

Malfoy turned around again, and started to walk off at a quickened speed.

_Why is he always so…controlling? Everything's his way or no way. I can't even **talk** for heaven's sake!_ thought Hermione, her eyes trained on the floor as she walked behind Malfoy.

_And he thinks he could get every girl he wants. Well not me! Ha, watch…let him try to touch me again and I'll hex him so bad that he'll no longer **have** balls to get **any **girl.._

_He probably thinks I'm easy. That I fall like all the others do. But I was brought up the right way…and I'm all for no sex till marriage. And I **highly doubt** that he's that desperate. **I'm** not that desperate._

Just look at him. All high and mighty like he owns the school. Well I'll have him put in place if he ever tries anything. I have Ron, Harry, Professor McGonnagle, Headmaster Dumbledore, Dean, Seamus, Parvati, Lavender, and…hey, where'd he go?

Hermione looked up from the floor as she suddenly realized that Malfoy was not in front of her. She tried to look far ahead, but it was impossible in the darkness.

"Malfoy?" she whispered. "Malfoy?!"

She started walking quickly, looking every which way for the popular blonde Slytherin.

"Malfoy, this isn't funny anymore!" she whispered loudly. She started walking faster, her heart nearly pounding out of her chest.

She heard something crash onto the floor behind her in the distance, and she quickly spun around in alarm. But once again, the darkness did not allow her such luxury.

Did a knight just fall? Or was it that someone crashed into the knight? A Slytherin…or Filch. 

"Malfoy, where are you?!"

No answer.

Oh my God. Where am I going to go?! What am I going to do?…someone's behind me… 

"Malfoy?" she whispered. "Harry?"

She began to walk backwards and slightly bumped into a knight.

Gosh Slytherin territory's full of them! Knight over here…knight over— 

"Who's out there!" came a deep, male voice.

Hermione's breath hitched in her throat, as she frantically made her way around the knight, and farther down the hallway.

She heard the footsteps follow her, and started to run. But all that earned her was for the person to run after her.

A hand reached out and grabbed her robes, pulling her into a small, darker gap within the walls.

Hermione opened her mouth to scream, but a hand soon clasped over it.

She caught sight of those silver orbs glowing through the darkness in attentiveness. He waited till the footsteps were no longer audible before removing his hand from her mouth.

Hermione sighed in relief. "I'd never thought I'd be so happy to see you Malfoy."

He smirked.

The space was so small she could feel his lean form pressed against her own body, his hot breath tickling her face, and his hands were slowly making their way back to her waist.

"I never thought I'd hear _you_ say that."

"Well…then I guess I owe you a thank-you."

"Or…you could pay me with something else…" said Malfoy, his arms fully around her as he slightly slouched towards her neck.

Hermione stiffened in unease, and slightly made a movement to pull away, but he kept her in place.

"Scared Granger?" asked Malfoy in a seductive, low mumble by her ear.

"Just t-tell me what you have to say and take me back."

"Uh-uh uh-uh," said Malfoy, his hands moving to her hips. "You owe me one."

Hermione tried to back as much as possible into the wall, but they were still very much in contact.

"I-I already said thank you."

Malfoy smiled evilly. "I want more."

"Like…Treacle Tarts?" asked Hermione, her voice squeaky.

Malfoy nodded the expected negative answer.

"Galleons?"

Malfoy nodded again, his eyes penetrating.

"Homework?" asked Hermione.

Malfoy snorted, "leave it to Granger to come up with a bribery like that."

Hermione cocked an eyebrow at Malfoy, allowing his smirk to grow. "Do you want me to _tell_ you what I want?"

Hermione's eyes widened in fear. "Wait! I-I still want to guess."

Malfoy smirked. "Too late," he whispered.

In a flash, he brought Hermione's lips upon his, his hands going to the small of her back pulling her closer to him.

Hermione barely had time to react before it was over, as quickly as it began.

"Meet me tomorrow by Myrtle's bathroom at nine. We still have to talk, and you better show up Granger. I'm not used to being stood up."

"But—."

"Walk the rest of this hall till you reach the dead end. Tap the wall twice and walk through. There you'll reach Professor Snape's classroom, and you know your way from there."

"Wait, you're not going to walk me there?!"

Malfoy didn't answer, simply sliding out of the small space and walking down the opposite hallway.

"Malfoy?…Malfoy?! Malfoy!" she whispered, but nothing worked as he disappeared into the darkness.

"I'm not going!"

"Yes you are…" came the simple distant reply. "Or else."

"Or else what?"

. . .

"Or else what?!"

No answer.

…_damn…_

AN: I want to thank ALL of my reviewers…you inspire me to write more. Without you, I wouldn't even **try**. So please…REVIEW!****


	7. Boys, boys, boys and more boys

**Chapter seven: Boys, boys and more boys.**

****

****

"Oh…but you don't understand Parvati! He's so hot and I _know_ that once he gets to _really_ know me…he'll fall in love with me. And then we'll graduate and get married and we'll live happily ever after!"

"In what dimension, Lavender?"

"In third dimension."

"You just want him as a trophy. To show everyone around that you 'have' him."

"I _will,_ you'll see."

"No you won't. I thought the **_very, exact_** same thing…but it wasn't happening."

"He's going to get old and tired eventually."

"And then he will be lonely. **I** know for a fact that **you** are not going to wait for him till **then**."

"I so will! He's so cute…and sexy…and…oh I _know_ he'll just fall in love with me!"

"You're not serious are you?"

"Why wouldn't I be?! It's possible. Go on, Hermione…tell her it's possible."

"What is?"

"That I…Lavender Brown…can get Draco sexy-ass Malfoy to fall in love with me."

Hermione laughed. "You're joking, right?"

"Bitch!" laughed Lavender as she threw her pillow towards Hermione. She easily blocked it.

"What? Oh, come on! Do you _really_ think that Malfoy would give a damn about _anyone?!_ Once he gets what he wants…it's over. Poof! You were never there!" yelled Hermione, earning another thrown pillow.

"Come one, Lavender. It's true. You can get _any_ guy you want that has a _heart_. And that's the only thing that Malfoy lacks…if you know what I mean," said Parvati from her bed, winking.

"_Everyone_ has a heart, Parvati."

"Okay…one that works emotionally."

"Oh stop. You're just jealous." joked Lavender.

"Oh yea. I'm _dying_ to get played by the Slytherin King."

"You already did," said Lavender, earning a glare from her roommate.

"That's true. Don't tell me you forgot," said Hermione.

**Flashback:**

_"Ron, touch my homework one more time and I'll rip your fingers off."_

_"Why so touchy, Hermione? I mean, what are best friends for right?"_

_"I'll tell you what they're for. They're for being there when you need them most. To confide and trust in them. To help them see right from wrong. **Not** to give them a VIP pass to excellent Grades. **Not** to take advantage of them!"_

_"But you **are** helping me….don't you see it? Without you, I would have never passed to sixth year. And now that I'm here…why not help me to seventh. And then—."_

_"And then what?! And then I go and do your **job** for you?! I go to work with you and do your freaking job?! I'll tell you something right now, before I forget. You—."_

_"I bet you forgot."_

_"No!"_

_"Yes."_

_"No."_

_"Alright then…what were you going to say?"_

_"I was going to **say** that you…you…you should finish your breakfast," said Hermione, turning back to her own food._

_"Ha-ha, you forgot."_

_"I said eat!"_

_"Okay, okay," said Ron, turning not to his food but to Harry…starting once again a conversation about Quidditch._

_Hermione rolled her eyes. ****_

****

**_'He's so immature'_**_ she thought, putting a spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth. **'You'd think he'd start growing up and sixteen.'**_

****

Hermione looked up to see Lavender and Parvati enter the great hall in deep conversation…sending glares toward the Slytherin table.

_Everyone knew that Parvati and Malfoy had been…"**dating**"…and that it was a matter of time before he got what he wanted and left her. Everyone was betting on days and hour. _

_It was an embarrassment to the Gryffindor house. Hermione, personally had never shunned her away, but just about everyone else had. Just to have a Gryffindor **consider** to date a Slytherin was unacceptable, now imagine having someone actually do it._

_Hermione saw Lavender pull on Parvati's sleeve, as if pulling her away from a launched attack._

_"Parvati don't be stupid! He's not worth it…Parvati!" yelled Lavender after her friend, Parvati having escaped her grip and on her steady way towards the Slytherin table._

Lavender rushed behind her. "Do you want to get in trouble?" she asked, and then at the realization that everyone was watching, lowered her tone.

_Hermione's forehead wrinkled in curiosity as many from her table rose to get a better view of the scene playing to its climax._

_"Ron sit **down**," said Hermione, pulling Ron's sleeve._

_"Bugger off, Hermione. Everyone else is doing it too."_

_Hermione sighed, as she too rose up to see what was unfolding. If she knew **anything** about Parvati, it was that **no one** messed with her…_

_Parvati reached the Slytherin table, Malfoy slowly looking up from a conversation with Blaise._

_"Can I help you?" he asked smugly, his friends beside him snickering._

_"Parvati, let's go before you do something stupid," whispered Lavender, blushing as she secretly received a wink from Malfoy._

_"What are you winking at her for, huh? What, you think I didn't see that?"_

_Malfoy's famous smirk spread across his flawless face as he carelessly leaned on the table, both his arms placed specifically for support._

_"Patil, dear. We're done. It's over, there isn't anything between us."_

_"So I **noticed**," said Parvati._

_"So what are you doing here?" asked Malfoy, giving his friends a glance before continuing. "I mean…we're through. I got what I wanted…I have no need of **you** anymore."_

_Parvati's jaw dropped in insult, her eyes narrowing into slits._

_"What do you **mean **you have no use of me anymore? You think you could just use me and throw me away like I'm a piece of trash?!"_

_Malfoy looked around and laughed. "That's **exactly** it."_

_"You mother fucking bitch!" screamed Parvati, moving to hit Malfoy, but was held by Harry…who out of no where appeared to save the day once again._

_"I'll tell you what babe," began Malfoy, leaning forward on his arms to get closer. "I'll write a recommendation to any guy for you…telling them you weren't bad in bed. As a matter of fact, you weren't bad at all."_

_Parvati, still struggling against Harry, suddenly stopped and looked at Malfoy in the eye…a smirk playing on **her** face._

_"Too bad I can't say the same for you, Drakie-boo. That's why I asked you how is it that **we** were through when **I** never **felt** **you**?"_

_Everything went silent, Gryffindors at the other end trying to hide their hysterical laughter._

_"Well you're the first to say that, Patil."_

_"Correction, Malfoy. I'm the first to say it **to your face**."_

_Malfoy smirked, once again looking around to his friends before continuing. "Pardon me, Patil…but what would you know?"_

_Parvati stiffened, Harry still holding her by the arms._

_"I mean…when I had you, you were a **virgin**."_

_Everyone in the Slytherin table burts into rude snickers and snorts, as Parvati's face turned tomato-red._

_It wasn't a girls pride nowadays to be a virgin. It told others you were inexperienced and immature. No one knew what to do anymore. If you slept with too many guys, you're a whore. If you don't sleep with any…you're a little girl._

_"Shut the hell up, Malfoy."_

_"Oh don't worry Patil. I mean, after I taught you a few things here and there…you weren't bad at it. You were good enough."_

_"Whatever you say you 'taught' me must have been taught to **you** by your father."_

_"No, not really. You see…not **all** families are like **yours**."_

_"Shut up you stupid bitch."_

_"Shut up you stupid whore."_

_Parvati's jaw clenched. "How **dare** you?!"_

_Malfoy eased his lean on the table, giving him a superior air. "Well, that's what you get for being open-legged 24/7."_

_"I was **not**!"_

_"Patil…I had you four…five…six times? I lost count. And that was during the one weak we've been… 'going out'…"_

_At that instant, Harry let go of Parvati. "Kick his ass," he said._

_It was mini-seconds before Parvati launched herself at Malfoy's hair, pulling every possible strand. With one hand, she reached for a cup of pumpkin juice and poured it onto his head._

_Malfoy instantly stood up and yanked her grip off his precious hair. He looked up at Dumbledore and the rest of the professors, who were doing absolutely nothing upon the manner. As a matter of fact, from the expression on McGonnagle's face…he'd say she was almost **enjoying** it._

_Malfoy looked at Parvati, who had an expression of satisfaction. His hands then wandered towards his hair, his face contorting to that of disgust. Parvati was looking straight at him, as Lavender told her to calm down. _

_Nothicing his stare, she looked at the floor. It was then he realized that everyone was now surrounding them…_

_He took a plate of oatmeal and reached over the table,_ _slowly pouring it all over her hair._

_"That's what you get for being so fucking **easy**," he said, smirking at Parvati's horrified expression, and abruptly turning around and exiting the Hall._

_End of Flashback_

"You seem so keen on bringing that up each and every time, Lavender."

"Not really. Only when you think you know better than me."

"Wouldn't that experience _make_ me know better than you?"

"Not really."

"Yes. You **learn** from your mistakes, Lavender."

"But **you** don't Parvati."

"But **I** do, Lavender."

"No you **don't** Parvati."

"Yes I—."

"Would both of you just _shut up_?!" screamed Hermione, her hands slicing the air.

"Ooh. Harry always does that. Now **he's** a hottie," said Parvati.

"He's _alright_. But Malfoy…now **he's** got that **_bad boy_** aurora…and those muscles, that _cute_ butt, and those broad **_shoulders_**…"

Hermione looked at both of them, her bed being in between theirs.

"You both need to get a **life**."

"Oh yea, _you're _to talk. All **you** do is stick your nose into them _books_ of yours…you  haven't ever even had a boyfriend! And you never officially went out with Viktor Krum…so you shouldn't be telling **us** that we have no life, because look at yourself first."

"Beautiful speech Parvati," said Hermione, starting to get off her bed. "But you see, the difference between what you said and what I **mean** is far too great for me to even **try** and explain. And I don't feel like spelling it out to a blonde idiot."

She reached for the doorknob and opened the door. "Or a whore," she finished, exiting the room, getting a glimpse of Parvati's hanging jaw.

"Hermione!" yelled Lavender after her, not moving an inch from her bed. "You forgot your shoes again!"

_Damn_, thought Hermione.

Malfoy entered the Slytherin common room, head high and back straight.

A clique of Slytherin girls over by the corner stopped talking, taking in his commanding posture. "Where's Zabini?"

"Took you long enough…I'm over here," came a voice from the far back of the room.

Malfoy stalked towards Blaise, who was easily sitting along a black leather couch, everyone still following his moves.

Malfoy turned around to the members of his house. "What the hell are all of you looking at?! Get back to what you were doing!"

Everyone obeyed.

"So…how'd the meeting with Granger go?" asked Blaise, sitting up so that Draco had room to sit down.

Malfoy sighed, sitting beside his best friend. "I'm getting there."

"_Getting there?_"

"That's what I said, isn't it?" snapped Draco.

"I'm sorry, man. It's just that…well…you usually get them on your first try."

"I didn't _try _yet."

"Did you _try_ anything?"

"Of course I did," said Draco, leaning back on the couch.

"_And?_" asked Blaise, eager for anything worth blackmailing the Gryffindor about.

"And I got a bloody kiss. Well…it was _more_ than a kiss. The one on the train atleast."

"_The one on the train?!_ So there was more than one?"

"Yep," said Draco.

"Did she respond to _any_?"

"To the one on the train."

"So it _was_ worth it, wasn't it?"

"What was?"

"You staying longer at your manor and catching the train after most students."

"I guess so."

Blaise looked at Draco, his blue eyes observing his best friend's reactions.

"I feel like I'm abusing you by making you kiss Granger."

"You know she's not that bad," said Draco, as if surprising even himself.

Blaise looked doubtfully at his best friend. "Bet she read up on how to kiss properly."

Draco laughed. "I don't think she even knows they have those kind of books in the world. But rest assure my friend…I'll get her."

"I don't think you will."

"I get everything I want. I'll get the little lioness."

"You're that confident, huh?" asked Blaise.

"Of course, Zabini. She pretends to be strong now…they all do. All I have to do is sweet talk her for a few more weeks and I got her."

"Weeks?!"

"Yea. I want to take my time with her."

"Just to bed her?"

"Yea. Just to bed her."

"Why don't you make her fall in love with you while you're at it?"

"Fall in love with me?!" whispered Draco, loudly.

"That was part of the deal, Draco."

"Yea, but I thought you were just joking. I mean, it's usually what happens every time…but Granger's different. You just don't know with her."

"Is there a doubt that you'll get her?"

"Of course not! I can get everyone and everything I want. But…make her fall in _love_ with me? I thought that was just to another way of yours to make it sound like the bet was a horrible thing."

"It was…but since you're taking it so seriously…yea. Why not?" smirked Blaise. "Since you're so confident."

In reality, Hermione gave Draco this immense doubt of whether he'd be able to go through with the bet. She was so…independent and so…focused that it seemed almost impossible that she'd fall to her enemy…and now for her enemy.

Then again…the train ride gave him hope. If it got as far as her kissing him back, then there had to be a chance. Besides, he never backed out from a challenge…

_He took the bate._

"Fine. Same standards?"

"Same standards."

"Your loss," shrugged Draco.

"How so?"

"I was _this close_ to getting her on the train."

"Care to tell?"

"Well, let me start by saying that she was all over me. I mean, you could _really_ tell she wants me..."

(A.N: I know, I know! You guys hate me cause I didn't get up to the 'meeting'…but that's the next chapter. "Or else…" that's killing you lot, isn't it? Love you all! Please review! Bye!!!)


	8. So close, too close

**Chapter eight: _So close…too close_**

****

****

Hermione descended the stairs into the Common Room, after returning into her dormitory for her shoes…

Harry was sitting on a chair by the fireplace all alone, deep in thought.

"What did he want to talk to you about?" he asked, not even looking at Hermione.

"Who?"

"Who else, Hermione? Malfoy."

"Oh don't worry about that, Harry. It was…nothing."

Harry bolted up from the chair and walked towards Hermione, who had been walking towards him, but had stopped at his sudden movement.

"Nothing? Nothing?!" he said. It was odd, he wasn't screaming, but his voice was still harsh.

"Yes Harry. _Nothing_."

"Hermione…it's _never_ nothing with Malfoy. It's always _something_. And if he's planning that with _you_…he has something _else_ coming. Just wait till I get my hands on him he'll—."

"Harry! Will you just _stop_?!"

Harry looked at Hermione in a mixture of confusion and anger.  "What do you mean, **stop**?"

"I _mean_ that you are acting nothing out of rash."

"Rash?!" Now he was yelling. "Hermione do you even _know_ what Malfoy's known for? Do you _know_ his reputation?!"

"Of _course_ I know what he's known for! But you're acting so **stupid**."

"Stupid?! Hermione, you're my best friend!"

"**Exactly!** You don't _own_ me! I know how to defend myself, thank you very much."

"You do _not_ know how to defend yourself from _Malfoy_."

"And what's Malfoy? Just another _student_ in Hogwarts. **Not **some amazing Lord!"

"He might as well be! You very well know that he's familiar with the Dark side."

"And what's that to do with me?!" yelled Hermione, painfully pointing to herself with her right hand. She roughly pushed Harry aside and walked to the fireplace, turning around fiercely.

"Malfoy may be **strong**, and he may know the **Dark Arts** more than _I_ do…but so long as I'm Hermione Granger…I **won't** let him defeat me! You act as if I suddenly turned vulnerable to him because I took his offer to **talk.**"

"That's not what I'm trying to say Hermione."

"Then what **are** you trying to say, Harry?! Care to say? I'm **not** going to read your mind so you might as well clear this _misunderstanding_."

"It's just _weird_ the way he's giving you such personal attention."

"He's _always_ given me personal attention, Harry. Why do you think I hate him so damn much?!"

"Besides the teasing and the name-calling Hermione! Why did he have to talk to you privately? I'm pretty sure that if he wanted to insult you, he would have had _no_ _problem_ doing it in front of me! Why…if it was _nothing_…was he so keen on getting you alone?!"

"Harry you need to **grow up**!"

Harry looked at Hermione sharply, his nose flaring as he marched up to her…pointing at her accusingly.

"**No,** Hermione. **No**! It's not **me** who has to grow up…it's _you_! You need to learn that not _everything_ has a written solution! You have to stop being so _fucking_ naive! Stop thinking _I'm safe_ and start thinking **_How_**_ can I stay safe?_. There's a _difference.** You **_need to grow up and stop thinking you have the answer to everything! Malfoy's one _hell_ of a smart guy…_never_ under estimate him! **You **need to **realize **that teachers aren't going to be there _forever_ to help you_._ You need to open your _fucking_ eyes and see the **real world**! You have to take off that blasted _blindfold_ and see that the real world has _danger_! _You_, Hermione Granger, need to _grow up_ and _defend yourself_ by _preventing_ catastrophes…like Malfoy getting into your pants!!!"

For about a minute Hermione said nothing, speechless at Harry's outburst. She could tell he was furious. Why, she had no exact idea…but his eyes turned from sweet emeralds to piercing green lightning bolts.

"Hey, hey! What's going on?" asked Ron, who had just descended the stairs from the boys dormitory.

Harry gave a quick, short breath out, looking at Hermione in disgust. "_Nothing,"_ said Harry. "Absolutely _nothing_."

He spun around and exited the Common Room, "I'll see you at the dorm," he finished.

Hermione looked at her watch…

_Eight Fifteen_…she still had time to think whether or not to go and meet up with Malfoy.

_Let's balance everything out. If I go: God knows what Malfoy'll do. Rape me? Blackmail me? Threaten me? And Harry'll kill me no doubt, after all that he said._

_If I don't go: Malfoy'll do something about being stood up. Probably ruin my chances at a good job in life._

_If I go: Malfoy will think he's got control over me._

_If I don't go: I'll never be able to walk the halls alone in peace anymore._

If I go: I can tell him to stop trying to add me to his list. I can tell him to back off! Yes...that's it! I'll go just for that. To tell him and leave. Yes…I'm a genius.

"Where are you going?"

"I have an appointment."

"With who?"

"You don't' need to know, Zabini. I'll be back early morning…so don't wait for me."

Blaise cocked an eyebrow and got up from the black leather couch where he had so lazily been laying down. "Course not, Draco. I have better things to do…like watch paint dry."

Draco laughed. "Don't be a stupid ass, Blaise. Go find some stupid girl to lay."

Blaise sighed deeply. "I think I will. Quick…mention a house."

"Ravenclaw," answered Draco, incredibly confused.

"Rajendri it is."

"You don't mean…Kunjbehari?!"

"Why not? She's not bad, you know."

"No…not the _best_ and not the _worst._ But…she's going out with Jeffrey…Jeffrey…Jeffrey _something._"

"Burdier?"

"Yea, something like that."

"I didn't know that," said Blaise thoughtfully. "Oh well! You _know_ I have no limitations. She'll take me…she always does."

"If you say so."

"So."

…

"Jack-ass."

"Took you a while."

"It was retarded."

"Which is the sad part."

"Watch it, Blaise. You more than anyone know that I can kill."

"You're telling me this like I _care_."

"You're talking to me like I have nothing _better _to do."

"But you're talking back."

"Blaise…go find your little Hong-Kong girl."

"I will, bastard. She's probably with her giggly friends anyway."

Draco smirked. "What girl isn't?"

"Granger…"

_GOD COULD SHE JUST **SHUT UP** FOR ONE SECOND?!_thought Hermione, hands over her ears, trying to block Myrtle's cries. Even from the outside of the bathroom, her annoying voice could be carried for miles.

She looked at the clock on the wall. __

_9:10_…_you've got to be kidding me_! _I'm going to sleep!_ Thought Hermione, starting towards Gryffindor territory.

_How dare he? Here I am…punctual as always and he's threatening **me** about being stood up. Well, I could simply say that I was never there…there's nothing wrong with lying, right?_

_Wrong. Face it, Hermione. You're the most terrible liar on the face of the earth. Ooh…but when I see him, I'll tell him every single thing I think about him…and they won't be two things. Good, and lies._

_Did that make sense? Gosh, Ron's right. Only I can truly understand myself. I sure do wish that Myrtle would **shut up**! She's always—_

"Where you going, Granger?"

Hermione stopped in her tracks, a twist of either excitement or fear in her stomach. She didn't know which.

She turned around and saw Malfoy walking towards her, a smirk plastered onto his face.

"I'm going back to my dormitory. The idiot I was supposed to meet didn't show up so I decided that I had better things to do."

"Like what Granger? Read a book?"

"Stare at the ceiling. It's _far_ more interesting than talking to you, I'm sure."

"How would you know? You've never actually talked to me."

Hermione smiled mockingly sweet. "Let's keep it that way, shall we?"

Malfoy smirked. "Weren't you all for House Unity? Why don't you start practicing what you preach?"

"By what? Talking to you? Well…isn't that what we're doing now? Why don't you _realize_ what you say?"

"Why won't you shut up and follow me."

"Why would I do such a stupidity? I came here for one and one reason alone. To tell you to **back off**. I don't' know _what_ you expect from me, but I _will_ tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to—."

"Follow me," said Malfoy, abruptly turning around and stalking down the hall in the same direction he had come.

He stopped when he realized that Hermione wasn't following him. He turned his head as if looking over his shoulder…but his eyes were trained on the floor. "Or else."

"Or else what Malfoy?" she asked in a low voice.

"I'll leave that for your imagination. But let's just say it's not a very nice thing, shall we? Now the sooner you get your feet moving, the better."

"You think I'm just going to do whatever you say?!" yelled Hermione.

She had had enough.

Malfoy turned his head forward, a smirk secretly growing on his face. "Yes…yes I do."

"Well that's just too bad because you got something _else_ coming, Malfoy. I'm not one of those girls that answer to your beck and call. I'm Hermione Granger…your **enemy**. So if you don't mind—."

_Wow, I'm actually doing it! _

"I'm going to go back to my dormitory and—."

"Runaway like coward. Typical."

Hermione tensed. "Runaway? I do _not_ runaway from anything _pathetic_."

"Is that why you're running away from me? Because I'm not pathetic and actually _intimidating_?" asked Malfoy.

"Can you please explain to me why I'm talking to your _back_?"

Malfoy turned around, an eyebrow delicately raised. "Better?"

"Much."

Malfoy sighed, walking to lean against the wall, arms crossed across his chest.

He looked at the floor…ceiling…down the hall…taking his dear sweet time.

"So…you were leaving?"

Hermione looked confused.

"You said you were going to leave…I'm just being polite and waiting for you to do so. That way I may return to my common room."

"I'm _not_ leaving if you think it's because you're frightening me."

"Well then I guess your staying, because there's not much that'll change my mind Granger."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

Damn her Gryffindor pride.

"Fine."

"Fine what?"

"I'll go."

"Bye."

"No. I'm going wherever you're to take me. But keep in mind it's just to show you that I am **not** scared of you."

Malfoy slowly smirked, before quickly moving off the wall.

The only way I get girls is by being nice to them.

 Ugh…I got to be nice to **Granger**?

 Well…I suppose it's worth it if I get Blaise's whole Dark Arts Encyclopedia collection. And if I get Hogwart's model of a perfect child on my list…I'd be **unbeatable**.

Taking in a deep sigh, Malfoy extended his hand in Hermione's direction, facing the opposite way…almost unable to believe he was doing what he was doing.

Hermione, who had been walking towards him, had stopped in confusion.

"What's this?"

Malfoy turned to face her. "It's my **hand**."

"What's it doing extended at me?"

"I'm **offering** it to you. I'm trying to be…n…ni…I'm trying to be…nice."

I stuttered? What the fuck?!…That was weird. I got to get it together. There's  no way I'm going to get her if she knows I'm disgusted. I have to make her believe she's the best girl on the market.

He moved to take Hermione's hand himself, and slowly brought it to his lips.

"Malfoy…what are you doing?"

He just smirked.

Work it, Malfoy. Work it.

"Follow me."

Where the hell is this boy taking me? He **better **not me taking me to his bedroom!…his hand's really soft…I'll hex him!

He's taking me to Slytherin territory again. I can already smell the expensive leather…or is it just his cologne? No…his cologne doesn't smell of leather! Or does it? I smell his mint aftershave…smells really good.

Listen to me! Oh God. I came to tell him off, and I end up letting him take me to Lord knows where.  He gave me the chance to escape too! I **had **it! But nooo. Me and my **stupid** Gryffindor pride!

Malfoy's thumb began massaging small circles on her hand, interlocking is fingers with her delicate ones.

To say she was scared would be an understatement. To say she hated the fact that he was touching her hand like that…would be a lie.

Malfoy smirked, he knew he was sending shivers up and down her spine. He knew he was affecting her in a way she'd rather deny. He knew that it would be a matter of time before she fell…to him.

He stopped at a corner of a hallway, carefully looking over to see if anyone was there. When no one was in sight, he continued to the end of the hall.

"Malfoy it's a dead end."

He turned around, that famous smirk on his face. "Anxious are we?"

"No…just pointing the obvious."

"Well then it's my turn," said Malfoy. He took the hand that was in his and put it against the wall, and slowly began sliding it downward…till she felt a knob.

"A door?" asked Hermione, turning the knob and slightly opening it.

"Yes, Granger. Quite the obvious, no?"

Hermione couldn't help but smile in spite of herself as she stepped into the dark room.

She walked in further…liking how the darkness made her feel like she was flying in the night sky.

She heard the door close behind her, and assumed that Malfoy was in the room. It was a matter of time before he'd turn on the light.

She inwardly hoped that he wouldn't…she couldn't explain it, but she felt…free. As if she were facing the endless outer space. Her eyes closed, she extended her arms out as the coolness of the dungeons finished all effect. She was almost flying.

Malfoy stared blankly at the sight before him. No smirk, no snarl…just open curiosity.

He couldn't really see her. It was too dark for that.

But there was something being released from her. This aura that seemed to amaze him and befuddle him all at once. She seemed…peaceful? Spontaneous? Boundless?

He heard her breathe in the chamber air…and sniffed around to see if he too could smell what seemed to please her so much. He couldn't.

He had been able to see her arms rise…or felt them ascend…and now he felt them descend; an exhale of satisfaction from her behalf.

He didn't understand her behavior. It was just a chamber.

But Hermione Granger had completely forgotten that she was in Slytherin territory. Or that Malfoy was even there. She just liked the darkness in this room. It seemed endless…and so overwhelming. There wasn't a light in sight. Not one at all.

She felt two strong but gentle arms wrap themselves around her waist, as Malfoy let his chin lean on her right shoulder.

And for the first time, Hermione wasn't scared…and she didn't tense. As a matter of fact, she placed her hands over his and leaned into his embrace.

At first, Malfoy was surprised at her reaction, but he soon put it to the back of his mind and simply turned Hermione to face him.

Honey brown met silver, and it seemed ages before anything happened. Before either breathed…before either blinked…before either moved.

Malfoy's leaned forward, his lips capturing Hermione's in a growing aggressive battle, his hands pressing on the small of her back in order to get them closer.

Hermione's arms wrapped themselves around his neck and brought him closer to her, taking in the sniff of his mint aftershave.

Malfoy began to walk forward, Hermione following his lead by walking backwards…lightly bumping into a desk.

That alone brought Hermione back to reality, as she abruptly broke the kiss and pushed him away.

"What are you doing?!" shrieked Hermione through the darkness.

"What am **I** doing? You were doing it too!" answered Malfoy back, slightly frustrated at the interruption.

Hermione went to walk towards the door, but he trapped her with his arms…his hands firmly on the desk behind her.

"Scared again, Granger?" whispered Malfoy into her ear, biting it slightly.

Hermione pulled away in annoyance. "Malfoy I am **not—**"  said Hermione, shoving past Malfoy. "—afraid of you! Can you get that through your thick head?!" screamed Hermione, making for the door.

She heard swift steps, felt Malfoy pass her and stand in front of the door.

"Malfoy, out of my way," said Hermione, her arms crossed.

He flicked the light on, his posture at ease, his arms blocking the door.

"C'mon Granger. Don't deny the fact that you kissed me back. So how's about we finish what we started?"

"**We** didn't start **anything**! **You** kissed me! And **I'm** done playing games. I'm going to say this **one more time.** **Stay away** Malfoy. Don't come near me…I'm not interested in you. You're nothing but trouble…something I detest. And you're my enemy…so do me the favor and let me go…I'll find my way back."

Okay…she's harder than I thought, thought Malfoy. Time for the old routine.

Malfoy looked to the ground, a mask of depression on his face. "I knew it."

"Knew what?"

"You hated me. You've always hated me and you always will. And here I was, hoping that maybe…just maybe we could put that aside and…it was stupid, I know. But you're just so…perfect. Smart, pretty…great personality. I was just hoping I could get that nice part of you directed towards me. But that'll never happen. I was so—."

"Malfoy cut the crap," said Hermione lazily.

"I knew you'd say that. But it's true.  You've captured my eye…incase you haven't noticed. You're different from all the girls. You're independent and…amazing. I was so stubborn to think that I could actually get you to like me…as more than…an…**enemy.**"

Hermione stared at Malfoy as he advanced to her.

"Malfoy don't—," began Hermione, before Malfoy wrapped his arms around he waist again and pulled her closer.

"Shh. Just, please," he said, his face getting closer to hers. "Give me this one chance."

"Malfoy, don—."

His lips captured hers, sending a chill through both of their spines…Malfoy ignoring his.

He pulled her closer to him as Hermione's hands gently held his face, both their knees getting a bit weak.

His tongue begged entrance, and Hermione allowed it to explore within her mouth, the kiss becoming a battle of tongues.

Malfoy's hands sneaked up her sides and back down, his fingers moving under her robe, her shirt being the only barrier between contact.

He moved to unbutton the first button on the top of her shirt…and succeeded before Hermione's eyes popped open in realization.

She broke the kiss, pushed his hands away, and slapped him…hard.

Malfoy looked at her in shock and confusion.

"What the fuck was that for you stupid mudblood?!"

Hermione looked at him with a mixture of pain and sarcasm. "Oh welcome back Malfoy."

Malfoy exhaled a short breath of sarcasm, "thanks. Nice way to bring me back to earth."

"**Anytime**," answered Hermione, shoving past him and making her way to the door.

"Why the hell was that for?"

"That was for thinking me a fool! Everything you said was a lie! A whole bunch of **bullshit**! I hope the earth opens up and swallows you whole you bastard! But since that isn't going to happen…I'll have to settle with just pretending you're dead. Don't **ever** come looking for me again! Don't **ever** think you can touch me again! Don't **ever** **talk** to me again!!!" yelled Hermione, storming out of the room…unseen tears threatening to spill.

The door closed with a slam. Malfoy spun around and kicked a desk off its legs, roaring in anger.

"Fuck you Granger! Why you have to be so damn…resistant?! Why you have to be so damn **focused** and strong?!"

…

"I was so close!"

**AN: **Please Review!!! I promise…this **is **a Hermione/ Draco fic…but I still have to decide whether it's a happy or thoughtful ending. And to all those that want me to read their fics…I haven't ignored you! I've just been kind of busy…but I'll get to it! It'll be **my** honor.

**Please review…it's the only reason I update!!!!**


	9. Friendships

**Chapter Nine: Friendships**

'How could I fall for his words?! **I** more than **anyone** knows that Malfoy's a filthy little liar! I shouldn't have gone…Harry's right. Malfoy's one **hell** of a smart guy…he almost got **me**!' 

"Oh God," whispered Hermione, stopping short in the hallway. "He almost got me!" she whispered louder.

"I'm supposed to be smarted than all those girls that fall for boys and their pathetic charms! I'm supposed to be smarted than that and smarter than other stuff…like letting Malfoy kiss me! How could I be such an **idiot?!**" she whispered to herself, starting to walk down the hall again.

'_But at least I pushed him off before he got too far. I mean…**who does he think he IS**?! Calling me smart, pretty…**perfect**…and then unbuttoning my shirt! But I slapped him…'_ thought Hermione, laughing slightly.

'_Yup, I slapped him **good. **It's the **least** I could do…damn! I **actually** thought he…he…he…I was **so** stupid!!!'_

"Hermione! Hermione, wait a minute!"

Hermione turned around, and with a twinge of guilt, recognized that it was Harry running towards her.

"Hey, Harry," said Hermione, trying to look as un-guilty as possible.

Once he reached her and caught his breath, he tilted his head to his left.

"What?" asked Hermione, hoping he wouldn't notice anything.

. . .

"Alright, Hermione. _Spill it_."

"But I haven't any liquid."

"Oh…you _liar_. You did something. What'd you do?"

"Nothing! I just came from the restroom and here you are, wanting to know what I **did**."

"But it's a quarter to twelve! I've heard of girls taking long in bathrooms but…damn not that long."

"I wasn't there the whole time."

"So where were you?"

"I was out on the grounds…enjoying the fresh autumn air."

Harry looked at her lazily, "you think I don't know when you're lying."

"I know you do. But looks like your failing cause I'm not lying **now.**"

"But you **were**."

"I was?" asked Hermione, sarcastically. It was more of a statement than a question.

"Yep. Where were you?"

"The Great Hall."

"Doing what?"

"Studying."

. . .

"You **really** suck at lying."

"What? How?!"

"First, you said you were at the bathroom…then you said you were out on the grounds, and now that you were studying in the **Great Hall**. **_Anyone _**that knows you knows that you only study in the library, your dorm, or the Common Room. Plus…the Great Halls' **closed**."

"Damn."

"Damns right, Hermione. Now where were you?"

"I was with _Malfoy_ in the bathroom. Then we went to a secret room and snogged."

"Are you making fun of me?"

"For what?"

"For yelling at you about Malfoy."

"Of course I'm not. Why would I do that?"

"Where were you then, Hermione?"

"In the bathroom and then to a secret room in Slytherin where Malfoy and I unwillingly snogged."

. . .

"I guess you're never going to tell me, huh? Fine…I just came to show you the way to our Common Room."

"**Our** Common Room?"

"Yes, **our** Common Room. I'm Headboy and you're Headgirl. **We** have a Common Room to get to…I haven't been in it yet…but I know the way…are you on the same page as I am? "

"Harry?"

"What?"

"Shut up."

"How'd it go?"

"Shut it, Blaise," snapped Malfoy, jaw clenched as he sat on a chair in the deserted Common Room.

"By that I'd say that it didn't go as planned."

"I said **shut it**, Blaise Zabini."

"Ooo. You used my **full** name. I'm **scared** now," answered Blaise, a mocking smirk plastered on his face.

Malfoy quickly reached over to the chair next to him and grabbed the front of Blaise's robes, pulling him so that they met face to face. "You better be. I have no patience right now, Zabini so I suggest you shut the fuck up."

Blaise, jaw clenched, gingerly removed Malfoy's hand finger by finger…placed it on Malfoy's lap…and tapped it twice, retrieving his hand.

"Don't get touchy Malfoy. Just because you're the Slytherin King and I'm the Slytherin Prince doesn't mean that I can't fuck you up.** Got it?**"

Malfoy looked at Zabini, eyebrow raised. "Are you **threatening** me, Zabini?"

"I'm warning you."

"About what? **You?**"

"My **reaction**."

"I'm not afraid of you, Zabini! You want to duel? I'll duel you. I'll kill you too."

Blaise looked at Malfoy weakly. "Look, I'm not looking for a fight. I'm just sick and tired of you thinking you're the dominant one of the two. Remember…I **can** fuck you up **too**."

He stood up and started walking towards the door.

Malfoy got up in challenge. "You're leaving?! You're not man enough to finish what you started?!"

"I didn't start anything," answered Blaise, as calm as if he were watching the grass grow.

"…Figures. You were always a chicken."

Blaise stopped in his tracks, and talked to Malfoy over his shoulder.

"No, Draco. I'm always the intelligent one."

"Okay…I get the bigger room."

"What! Why?!"

"Cause I have…how do I put this…more **visitors** than you do," said Harry, his eyebrows moving up and down suggestively.

"Ugh, Harry!" yelled Hermione in disgust, pushing him away from her.

"What? You know it is **so** true. Besides Malfoy…I score the most."

"You **wish**. Or have you completely forgotten about Zabini?"

"Oh yea. But after him…it's **me.**"

"Fine. But I still get the bigger room."

"What's **your** excuse? You have more books than I?"

Hermione's jaw dropped in mock offense. "How's about I'm a **girl** and girls have more things to **begin with**?"

"No way," said Harry, walking up the stairs and to what he assumed he would call the west wing.

He walked down the slightly elegant hall and opened the door to the bedroom, a respectable size with a full-size bed, bathroom, closet, bureau, and cabinets. He didn't take a long look at it, quickly walking back down the steps.

Hermione stood rooted to her spot as she watched Harry make his way to the other set of staircase parallel to the ones of the west wing.

He opened the door to the bedroom, and took in its size. Full-size bed, bureau, closet, bathroom…all the stuff the other one had…in a smaller space.

Harry descended the stairs and walked up to Hermione, a serious look on his face.

. . .

"That's the bigger room," said Harry, pointing to his right with his thumb over his shoulder.

In a flash, Harry made a run for that staircase, Hermione dashing after him.

"Oh no you don't, Potter! That room's mine!" yelled Hermione, Harry very much ahead of her on the staircase.

Realizing that she had no chance on catching up, she grabbed his ankle, making him trip on the steps and reach for the railing.

"Oh you bitch!" whispered Harry, half in shock and half in laughter.

"I heard no rules!" yelled Hermione, running pass him to the room.

"You cheater!" yelled Harry, running after her.

Right before she reached the room, Harry mustered up all his strength and wrapped his arms around Hermione's waist, picking her up and flinging her behind him.

Hermione, now on all fours, turned around and reached for his ankle once again, and had to be satisfied with just getting a hold of his pants.

"Hey, hey, hey! NO stripping, Hermione," yelled Harry, holding on to his pants as he tried to run for the room again…dragging Hermione who was now desperately holding on to his leg.

"I am **not** letting you get the bigger room!" yelled Hermione.

"Get off, Hermione!" laughed Harry.

"No. That room is **mine**," answered Hermione, taking a stronger hold of Harry's leg.

"I don't think so."

"Well then think again, Potter!"

"I don't know how to do that, Granger!"

"Just think about who's going to get the room again…and then you'll see that—."

"Hermione get off!"

"—the room belongs to me. And if you don't give it to me—."

"I'm counting to three!" yelled Harry, trying miserably to make it down the hall and to the room.

"—you'll be so sorry you'll wish that you—."

"One!"

"—were never—."

"Two!"

"—born—."

"Three!!"

"What?"

Harry stopped walking and turned to Hermione, and though she was already on the floor, he used his body weight to tackled her down, so that she was lying down instead of kneeling

He kneeled on top of her, holding her wrists in a lock to the floor.

"Guess what **I** heard?"

"Harry, get off!" yelled Hermione, starting to scream as Harry let go of her wrists to tickle her.

"Are you going to guess what I heard?" asked Harry.

"Oh my God! Stop…**stop**…Harry STOP!!!"

Her hands free, she slapped Harry on the face…repeatedly.

"Hey—hey!…Ow…**ow**!" said Harry, his cheeks taking turns in getting slapped slightly hard.

Hermione took a hold of his hair, and after a miraculous struggle, she was the one on top and tickling **him**.

Harry, trying to be a strong male figure, tried to not show that he too was weak to such attacks. However, about three seconds later, he was twisting and turning just like Hermione was, laughing twice as hard.

Finally, taking hold of her hands, and struggling to stop his fit of laughter, he managed to get out:

"Don't you think we're too old for this?"

"What?"

"We're seventeen."

"I know."

"And frankly, this is childish. I mean…is this how a Headgirl and a Headboy should decide on rooms?"

Hermione froze on the spot, sitting on Harry's stomach. "I guess you're right, Harry," answered Hermione, amazed at her immature behavior for a **room**.

"Of course I am."

She rose to her feet and stepped away from Harry, but was still close enough to offer him a hand in which he gladly took.

"It's surprising **you** were the one to tell **me**," said Hermione, now looking up at Harry.

Harry stared at Hermione blankly, a big goofy smile growing on his face.

"Sucker!!!" he yelled, bolted past Hermione for the room, and shut the door.

Hermione's jaw dropped, a laugh forming as she became conscious of her stupidity.

She ran to the door and banged on it. "Harry that wasn't fair!"

"Loser!" he yelled from the other side.

"But that was cheating!"

"I heard no rules!"

"What happened to being a gentleman?"

"I never said that!"

"You don't **need** to! I thought you were more polite than that, Harry!"

"I'm never polite to you or Ron!"

. . .

"Haaaarrrrrryyyyy!"

"Loser!"

"You're such a mean friend!"

"You're such a loser!" he laughed.

"Fine then! I'll just go to the **other** room!"

"Like the loser that you are."

"And **those** are **such** childish comebacks! You have **nothing** Potter!"

"…you're still a loser, Hermione."

Hermione gave a short, audible laugh and made her way down the stairs, up the other stairs, and to her 'room'.

_'The nerve of him! How come he's so nice to **other** girls in the school, but not me? It absolutely annoys me. Maybe I should start caring for how I look and carry a mirror wherever I go._

_Ugh, never! I'm my own person…and somewhere out there is the perfect man for me. **Just for me**.'_

Hermione plopped down on the bed, and looked at the ceiling.

_'That man's going to be extremely well educated. He's going to have **manners** and he's going to treat me like a **queen**. It'll be an even partnership…equal authority in the house. Our families will both agree and **love** the idea of our marriage. They'll all get along and every holiday we'll all get together and it'll be one big family._

_And he'll be a loving father…teach the children all that he knows…and we'll have one specific tradition. Besides the typical holidays…every Friday we'll go watch a movie…or we'll watch them at home with special snacks and life will be…**perfect**._

_Of course there's going to be problems along the way. Like the children disobeying or having the 'sex talk.' My husband will do **that one**.'_

Hermione sighed and decided to get her stuff in order.

"Better get started," said Hermione to herself, getting up from her bed and starting to search for her trunk.

She looked around her bed, by the door, in the bathroom, under her bed…no such luck.

_'Maybe they put everything in its place already,'_ thought Hermione, opening the closet door.

"Hey. It's my uniforms!" said Hermione, shuffling through them.

"Pants? Girls don't wear pants in Hogwarts. Their uniforms are skirts. **I** had only skirts. Why are their **pants** here?"

Hermione moved to the bathroom and swung open the mirror to see its contents.

"Shaving cream?! I don't need shaving cream…"

Three consecutive knocks came to the door. Hermione closed the cabinet and walked out of the bathroom to welcome whoever it was.

"Who is it?" she asked, and didn't wait for an answer as she opened the door.

"I **don't** want to talk about it," said Harry, waling past Hermione and pushing her out of the room.

"Harry—," she began, but as she turned around to face him, all that welcomed her was a slammed door.

. . .

"So I get the bigger room?"

**A.N:** This is the end of this chapter. Thought I'd put a little more comedy in this story, at least in the relationship between her best friends. Don't worry…there'll be more…**stuff**…next chapter.

**I love all of my reviewers…I wouldn't even consider writing if you don't encourage me! So please…REVIEW!!!**


	10. Charms

**Chapter Ten: **

"First day of class, talk about depression."

"How can you say that, Ron? First day of class, new subjects, new teachers, old subjects, old teachers…"

"Old Snape. Oh yea, I really feel like rejoicing."

"Okay, besides Snape."

"McGonagall…I'm so thrilled."

"Professor Sinistra."

"Astronomy? Oh yes, I'm jumping in joy."

"Of course you are. It's got to be the best we have this year."

"Oh thanks, Hermione."

"What?"

"You just killed the little hope I had of a better teacher."

"Well who said school had to be fun," said Harry, taking a seat next to Ron.

"Hermione," answered Ron.

"Oh come on you two! It'll all pay off in the end…I don't know about you, Harry…but I'm very excited for today."

"Well, I'm _curious_to know who the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is…but I'm not _excited_."

"Well, you're probably not thinking properly…eat your breakfast."

"Why?" asked Ron, looking down to the plate of food in front of him.

"Because it's the most important meal of the day…duh."

"Really Ron. I have no idea why **you're** complaining. You love eating!" said Harry, but his comment was absolutely ignored.

"Don't go all **mother** on me, Hermione. It's too early," said Ron, answering back to Hermione's previous comment.

"—Excuse me, I just said something—" said Harry, but no one was listening.

"Don't go all **childish** on me Ron. It's too early."

"—Is no one listening to me?—"

"Well it's **not **too early for you to stop  being an old lady," said Ron, twisting his mouth into a frown and turned his voice into a weak squeaky one. "Now Ron, why don't you start on your homework? Why don't you eat your eggs? Finish that pumpkin juice! Don't do this…don't do that. Why don't you—"

"Shut up?" interrupted Hermione, giving him a pointed look.

"—Hey guys. I said something very important—."

Ron's face returned to neutral and looked at her blankly. "You are no fun, Hermione."

"—Hello-o? Am I invisible or something? God! I've been talking and—."

"Pleased to know…now hurry up. We have to get to class in less than 15 minutes," said Hermione in response to Ron.

"…but if you guys want to ignore me, then that's just fine! See if I care!"

"What did you say, Harry?" said Ron, in realization that his best friend had been talking.

Harry sighed. "Oh **now** you hear me?! I'll see _you_ guys later," said Harry, secretly laughing lightly as he gathered his books and left the hall.

"What's bugging _him_?" asked Ron.

"Don't know," answered Hermione, looking after Harry…then returned her attention to her food and schedule, while Ron merrily stuffed his face with food from both his and Harry's plate.

"Open your textbooks to page 3. Read the first three chapters, then answer the questions on the board, and if you finish by the time the period ends…you may start on your homework. As for now, just copy it down," drawled Gryffindor's favorite teacher. Professor Snape.

Ron slightly shifted his weight to his right and whispered to Harry. "This is too much for homework!"

"Care to share your conversation, Mr. Weasley? Surely it must be important if you dared to talk in **my** class."

Ron looked around the classroom. At the snickering Slytherins, at the 'please-don't-cost-us-any-house points' look from his house mates, and finally at Snape sitting at his desk in a superior manner.

"Well, Mr. Weasley? We're waiting."

"I…I…I was—."

"Talking…we know. What were you talking to Mr. Potter about? I **do** believe it had something to do with the homework. What was it that you said about the homework, Mr. Weasley?"

You could have fried an egg on Ron's face at that very moment.

"I—I didn't—."

"Mr. Weasley I will **not** tolerate this, nor will I ask you again."

"I said it was too much," said Ron in a low, yet hateful whisper

"Ahh. Too much," drawled Snape, a malicious smirk growing on his face. "That was it, was it?"

"Yea."

"**Yes** Professor Snape," demanded the Potions instructor.

"Yes Professor Snape," repeated Ron, his stare glued to the parchment in front of him.

There was a moment of silence where hardly anyone dared to breathe, taking note of Snape's slowly curling lip.

"That's the thing with weasels such as yourself, Mr. **Ronald Weasley**. You have to **train **and **tame** them from the **wild**."

Ron's head snapped up, his eyes wide in realization and slowly narrowing at Snape, whose head was elegantly and gently relying on his pursed index fingers as his elbows leaned on the desk.

Harry looked at Hermione, who was sitting on the other side of Ron. The message was clear between them.

**_Ron's going to blow_**.

"I may not have all the money in the world, _Professor Snape_, but I'm already twice the man you'll **ever** be…and my family's honor is triple the amount yours ever has and ever will have!"

"Temper, temper Weasley," said Snape, a smirk growing once again. "Would I have known that you were such a hotheaded weasel, I would have used that weakness of yours against you and your house much before today. But better late than never…many say."

Snape stood up from his desk and walked to the board. Taking out his wand…he added to the homework. There was a big murmur of frustration and complaint in the process, but once done he quickly turned around and looked at Ron.

"Is that better Mr. Weasley?"

"I said it was too much, not too little!" answered Ron automatically, causing Snape's eyebrows to rise in both surprise and challenge.

"Oh well in that case," said Snape, turning and adding more to the homework.

Another murmur as everyone once again added more to their personal list of homework.

"Is that more satisfying, Mr. Weasley?" asked Snape.

"Yes Professor Snape."

"I'm glad. Now all get back to work!"

"The _nerve_ of him! Calling my family a bunch of wild animals. I'll see that McGonagall hears about this one! I've tolerated a lot before, but this is crossing the line! I'll make him regret ever—."

"Ron!" yelled Hermione.

"What?!" answered Ron, twirling to his left to meet her.

"You act as if it's the first time he's done this to you! Lord knows he's called you worse and humiliated you in more harsh ways than this. And he **wasn't** completely wrong, you know."

"Oh so you _agree_ with him?!"

"Well, you **are** hotheaded."

"Hotheaded? Hotheaded?! You think **I'm** hotheaded?!?!"

"Well just _look_ at your reaction!"

"What **about **my reaction? You find it to be the quality of a hotheaded man, do you?"

"Not of a man. Of a hotheaded **boy**."

"I'm seventeen. I'm of age. I'm a **man**," said Ron, furiously pointing at himself.

"Then do me the favor and start **acting** like one!" yelled Hermione, storming off farther down the hallway, and leaving behind a very frustrated Ron and a very bored Harry.

"Hermione's been getting on my nerves lately," said Ron, his right hand quickly running through his hair in a frustrated manner.

"I'm sure Hermione feels the same way about you," answered Harry, turning to walk down the hallway, opposite direction in which Hermione had taken.

"It's just that…she thinks she knows _everything_. That she's _always_right. That she knows better than **everyone** else. She's—."

"The Hermione we all know and love," finished Harry, stopping to wait for Ron to catch up.

"But doesn't she get on your nerves?"

"No. **I** don't fight with her all the time."

"It's just annoying."

"I thought you'd be used to it by now. You know you and Hermione always argue."

"Doesn't mean it's fun."

"Why?"

"Cause she always wins!"

_'Who does he think he **is**? He's so rude! He thinks he's grown…ha! A seven year old could be more mature than Ron. I can't believe I **liked** him once!! **What** was going on in my head?!'_

Hermione took a stronger grip on her books and hugged them to her chest as she descended a few steps.

_He's such a stupid, good-for-nothing Pratt that doesn't know left from right! A hotheaded weasel. Always crashing into unnecessary things…like trouble. If only he'd listen once in a while…he wouldn't find himself in such—'_

"Well what do you know. Who's to come my way but the smartest witch in our year, I must be truly the luckiest man on earth."

Hermione looked up an odd expression forming on her face. She looked behind her, and surprisingly realized that no one was there.

"I'm talking to _you_ Hermione Granger."

"Oh," laughed Hermione, shifting the weight of her books onto one arm, and with her free hand nervously pushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

"So how have you been Miss Granger?"

"Oh you can call me Hermione."

"I'm honored," said Terry Boot, slightly bowing. "And it would be to my pleasure if you would call me Terry."

"Um…okay. _Terry_."

"So what's Hogwart's best doing here in Ravenclaw?"

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows in confusion and looked about her. "Oh…I was. I was…"

"Lost?" offered Terry, a charming smile forming on his face.

"It's a possibility," laughed Hermione.

She looked around her again. "You know, I really don't see much of a difference between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. The hallways are pretty much the same at least."

Terry looked around as well. "I wouldn't really know, Miss Granger—."

"Hermione."

"_Hermione._ I've never been to Gryffindor."

"Is that so?"

"Oh it is. I've been to Hufflepuff and unfortunately Slytherin, but never to Gryffindor."

"Perhaps you could visit us one day. You know, we don't bite."

"Good to know," laughed Terry. "That lion's got us all fooled I suppose."

"A fair excuse," answered Hermione, wondering to herself why she was having such a formal conversation at age seventeen.

"I'm glad you think so. Say, do you need any help with those?" asked Terry, starting for the books that were now occupying both Hermione's arms.

"Oh no, that's quite—."

"No, please. It would be my pleasure."

"Well if you insist…I mean…I don't believe there'll be any harm with receiving a little help," answered Hermione, realizing there was nothing she would be able to do against it.

Terry gave her an admirable smile of reassurance, and freed her arms from the burden of her books. It made Hermione wonder weather she had ever talked to this young man before.

"So where to Miss Hermione Granger?"

"Actually I was going no where special. Would you mind taking me to the library? I find myself no where familiar and I'd really be grateful if—."

"Say no more, Hermione. I'd be more than glad to take you to the library. Is it not your landmark?"

"Well it's where everyone would find me most of the time."

"Don't you get teased?" asked Terry, walking next Hermione as he led her through Ravelclaw and towards the library.

"Oh yes! Every breathing second if possible. By Slytherins and Ron."

"Ron? As in Ronald Weasley?"

"The very same."

"Admirable family. All Purebloods, but blessed bunch. Don't let that fact get to their heads."

"No, they don't. Have you ever met them personally? Gone for dinner or tea?"

"Never had the honor," said Terry, shrugging his broad shoulders.

Hermione turned her head so that she had a clear view of his profile. He wasn't ugly.

Flawless light skin, dark hair, silver-rimmed glasses, tall, lean but slightly muscular, and when he moved his head to look at her she realized his amazing deep black eyes.

_Fierce_

"What's wrong?"

"Oh nothing. Nothing at all. I was just…well…we haven't ever really talked before."

"We haven't ever really met properly. But who doesn't know the smartest witch of our year?"

Hermione laughed and blushed lightly, biting her bottom lip wondering where this was leading.

"Well, that's the thing. Everyone knows me for my brains. Never for my personality."

"Perhaps I'll be the privileged one."

"_You_?" asked Hermione incredibly.

"Is there a problem with that?"

"Well…why would you want to? Not even Harry or Ron like to hang out with me anymore."

"That's a lie. Hogwarts Trio no longer together? I can hardly believe it!" said Terry, turning a corner.

"Well, it's more Ron's doing that anything else. You see, he and I have plenty arguments. There isn't a day where we don't disagree on something. And Harry and Ron always go everywhere together. They have more in common. Harry still hangs out with me a lot…but he and Ron have that _male_ _bonding_."

"I see. But _I_ am not like Mr. Potter or Mr. Weasley. I am Terry Boot. And **I** would be very privileged to get to know such a focused woman."

_'Woman?…I could work with that.'_

"And I would be honored if you and I became close friends," said Hermione, her mouth twitching into a broad smile.

"You should smile more, Hermione. You're beautiful when you do."

"_Beautiful? **Me?!**_" laughed Hermione. "Now I'm starting to see the sense of humor in you."

"You don't believe that I am serious?"

"No," came the blunt answer.

"Well I am. Hermione Granger, you're not ugly. I've seen worse."

"Like who? Who could **possibly** be uglier than me?"

"Lavender Brown."

Hermione stopped in her tracks. "You've got to be kidding! She's _gorgeous_!"

"Perhaps physically. But on the inside…she's an ugly troll."

Hermione laughed heartily and continued walking.

They reached the library.

"After you," said Terry, politely stepping aside from the library's entrance.

"Thank you," said Hermione, unable to stop the light blush from rushing to her cheeks.

Hermione led him to her usual table at the very back of the library.

"Don't like to be interrupted I presume?" said Terry, looking around at the secluded area she had led him to.

"Most of the time it doesn't work. People still find me here."

"If I may…who are such people?"

"Oh just Harry, Ron, Ron, Ron, and…Harry."

"No one else goes to look for you? How strange. Such beauty hidden in the farthest desk in the library."

"Terry I am **not** beauty."

"Has no one told you so before?"

"Only my mother. Everyone else is quite satisfied with proving otherwise. Especially Ron and the Slytherins."

"The Ron you here talk about so much…doesn't seem of pleasant nature."

"Oh but he is! He is of kind heart…just likes to tease me and we disagree far too much."

"Then why are you hardly ever seen without him?"

"Lately…I've been seen alone a lot."

"Is that so? A lady should never be alone."

"Well lately, I am."

"And Mr. Potter does nothing on the matter?"

"On what matter?"

"You and Mr. Weasley fight far too much…from what I'm hearing."

"But what can he do? He can't **make** us agree with each other."

"But he can't just stay with Mr. Weasley the whole time either. He has to share himself with you."

"Oh no! Harry and I are like siblings. We play fight, we argue like children, and we laugh like lunatics. He and I are Headboy and Headgirl, so there's plenty of time to talk and all of that."

"I'm glad."

"As am I," said Hermione, smiling at the discomfort of the formality.

And everything would have been perfect. Ended like a fairytale's first encounter between the prince and the future princess if it weren't for…

"Oh how _sweet_. Looks like Granger found herself a little _boyfriend_," came the deep and hideous torment.

Hermione turned around and out came a hidden figure from the bookshelves.

"Malfoy what do _you_ want?" asked Hermione, rolling her eyes at his smirk.

"Nothing. Just congratulating Hogwart's geekiest couple," said Malfoy, standing next to Hermione, and facing Terry.

"We are not a couple Malfoy. We're just—."

"Friends?" offered Malfoy, a hideous scowl forming. "That's how it all starts. First you're friends, then you have sex and if you're good enough…the guy will keep you for about another week or so. Till he gets tired if you know what I mean."

"I will _not_ allow you to talk to a lady in such rude terms!" said Terry.

Malfoy snorted. "A **lady**? Granger's no **lady**. She's some ugly creature that popped out of the forest."

"Sorry to say, but not all females are like your mother," answered Terry.

"_Excuse me?_" asked Malfoy. "What did you just say about my mother?!"

"Sorry Malfoy. I don't like repeating myself."

"You don't?" asked Malfoy, and in a flash reached over the desk and grabbed Terry by his robes. "Well you better before I beat the shit out of you."

"Malfoy, let go of him!" said Hermione trying to pry Malfoy's fingers off Terry's robes.

"Get off you stupid bitch!"

"Get your filthy hands off me, Mr. Malfoy…or we'll deal this matter like wizards."

Malfoy instantaneously let go of his robes and reached for his wand. "I'm not afraid of you, Boot. What's a Ravenclaw to a Slytherin?"

"Malfoy would you stop?! This isn't the time or **place**!" said Hermione, but she soon saw that Terry had too reached for his wand.

"Terry?!"

"My deepest apologies if this decision is of offense to you, but I shan't be a coward and turn my back on the chance to fight for something I believe in."

Hermione ran around the desk and next to Terry.

"Please. Just put the wand down. You won't be a coward to me. I don't want you to get hurt."

"I don't mind pain in this world. You could always heal it."

"Please Terry. If you don't do it for your sake, please do it for me," said Hermione, stepping in front of his wand and slowly pushing it down.

Terry put the wand back into his robes and reached for Hermione's hand.

"It is truly an honor to have met you today, Hermione."

"Oh so it's _Hermione_ now?" asked Malfoy, but he was ignored.

"It has been to the full extent of my pleasure. Hope we can meet again sometime."

"On my word, we will," said Terry, bowing down to kiss her hand.

Malfoy snarled in annoyance, and put away his wand back into his robes. "Are you done Prince Charming?"

"I'm quite doubtful of whether I should leave Hermione alone here with _you_," said Terry, looking at Malfoy over Hermione's shoulder.

"Terry I'll be fine," said Hermione, giving him a friendly smile…her back still facing Malfoy.

"If anything is to go wrong, do not fear in consulting me or any other member that is not from the house of Slytherin."

"Nothing will go wrong. Now please, before anything else starts…go."

Terry smiled fondly at her, "Take care."

"I will," said Hermione, and Terry turned around and left.

Once Terry was out of sight, Hermione sighed deeply and turned to face Malfoy.

"Why?" she whispered.

"Why what?"

"Why do you always have to ruin everything good that happens to me? Why couldn't you just leave and let Terry and I get on with our business?"

"Which was…?" asked Malfoy in sarcasm.

"Which was something that shouldn't matter to you! You don't see **me** bothering you when you're playing with other girls. You don't see **me** interrupting you when you're talking to other students of the opposite gender. Why do you do it to me?"

"Granger you're pathetic."

Hermione walked around the desk and infront of Malfoy.

"Pathetic? Pathetic?! Why pathetic? Because I don't go around with a flight of boys after me? Because for the first time in my life I actually have someone that can like me for being me? Because for the first time I have found someone that sees beyond looks?! Because even if I don't get a boyfriend out of this, I may still get a really close friend? And here you go ruining it?"

Malfoy, taking a strong hold of Hermione's arms, used all his weight to push her against a bookshelf, and stayed there…keeping her against the hard wood.

Hermione closed her eyes and winced in pain as Malfoy took a stronger grip on her arms.

"Ruining what? Or did you forget about what's going on between us? Our little _game_?"

"Malfoy get off, you're hurting me," whispered Hermione.

She turned her head so that it didn't face Malfoy, but he moved his so that it never left her sight.

"Why would I do that? I'm quite comfortable where I am."

"Well I'm not. You think I forgot what happened the last time we were this close? I **don't **want to repeat it."

"Are you holding me guilty?"

"Malfoy, do you not understand?!" yelled Hermione, making Malfoy look beyond the shelves to see if she had attracted any attention.

"I **never **want to see you again! You're nothing but a stupid, conniving idiot who doesn't care about anyone's feelings but your own. I don't think you even **have** feelings. You care about nothing but benefits! Nothing at all! Now if you'd just let me go—"

Malfoy smirked and leaned closer to her. "Why are you making such a scene? C'mon. I just want another chance."

"Another chance?! What do you **want** from me?! Why can't you just let me live! Why can't you just go back to teasing me now and then? Why the sudden interest to go beyond that?" asked Hermione, pushing Malfoy with all her might.

"I just want to get to know you better," said Malfoy, hardly able to hold back the snort threatening to escape.

Hermione stopped her attempt at pushing him and looked straight into his eyes.

And out of nowhere, she burst into laughter, and Malfoy was not able to hold his snort any longer and joined the laughter…Slytherin style.

"Gosh Malfoy. You've got to come up with a better excuse than that!" laughed Hermione, looking at Malfoy slowly turn red with laughter.

_God he's gorgeous. The cutest jerk alive. Too bad he's such a conceited asshole._

Hermione bit her bottom lip trying to prevent herself from smiling at her thought.

And as if he had just noticed that he had been laughing _with_ Hermione Granger and not _at_ her, he abruptly stopped and stepped away from her.

_What the fuck's going on with me? First I stare at her in the dark and now I'm laughing with her?!_

It seemed to have hit Hermione as well, and resumed her serious and angry manner.

. . .

. . .

"I'll be leaving now," said Hermione starting for the desk to pick up her books.

"But I'm not done Granger," said Malfoy in superiority.

"But **I** am. Now if you'd move out of my way…"

Malfoy smirked at the ceiling, and in a flash brought his arm firmly around the small of her back and brought Hermione closer to him.

"Malfoy get off!"

Malfoy's lips pressed aggressively against hers, but she wouldn't have it.

She turned her face so that his lips slipped to her cheek instead, and tried to push him off.

"What's wrong, Granger? It's nothing we haven't done before," smirked Malfoy.

"Malfoy get off! Please just leave me the hell alone!"

"Is that a plea?" asked Malfoy, slightly struggling to keep her in place.

"It's anything you want it to be if you'd just permit me to leave!"

Malfoy took hold of her arms and held her in place.

"Ouch, Malfoy…you're hurting me!"

"I'll let you go today, Granger. But know that I don't like to share what's mine."

"I'm not yours!"

"And you better not be anyone else's either."

"What?! Why? What am **I** to you?"

"…property…"

**A.N: **I know…I TOOK SOO LONG IN UPDATING! But I was away for a week…and well, it's a long chapter, no? Please review. If I reach 200…I'll update. I love you all!!!! Hope you liked it!!!!

Mwahhzzzzzzzzzzzz


	11. Tension and Frustration

**Chapter Eleven:**

_I shouldn't have said that. What was I thinking?! Calling her property…I almost got my head bitten off! Not that I was afraid…but how the hell am I supposed to make her fall in love with me **now**?! _

_But she **does** belong to me. For the time being that is. I don't like kissing girls at the same time they're kissing other guys. Even if it was fat ass Millicent, I wouldn't want her to be kissing or flirting with another guy while I'm working on her! I mean, Granger's got some nerve!_

_No one plays a Malfoy…unless she's a Malfoy. But the only female Malfoy is my mom…and she better not be playing my dad…or me._

Draco shook his head. _Focus man, focus! What is the next step in this? I **can't** loose! Not to Blaise! I'd be damned if I do…_

_Damned…since when do I say **that**? I don't think I said it yesterday…_

**_Ugh!_**_ Concentrate, Malfoy…concentrate! If you can't get Granger the usual way…how **can** you?!_

Malfoy's left hand reached for the bridge of his nose as he gingerly sat on the edge of his bed.

_Why is Granger so difficult? Why can't she just go through a one-night-stand like regular girls? What's up with her?!_

"Ah Fuck!!" yelled Malfoy, jumping up from his bed and stalking towards the bathroom.

"Why am I even stressing this a week and God knows how many days later?" asked Malfoy to the reflection in the mirror. "I **got** this. I'm _Draco Malfoy_. I can get **any** girl I want."

_'Then why haven't I gotten Granger yet?_' a distant voice within him asked.

_'It's not that I haven't gotten her yet…I'm just taking my time' _

_'Looks like your playing by Granger's rules…by her law…by **her** time'_ said the irksome voice.

"Damn it man! I'm going crazy!" yelled Malfoy, punching the bathroom mirror so that it shattered onto the floor and sink in a million little pieces.

Draco tightened his fist and let the little trickle of blood roll down part of his finger and onto the floor.

Slowly the pieces on the sink and floor rose to be suspended in midair, and Draco found himself staring at parts of his face on different bits of glass.

Then, all pieces made a rush to the frame and the mirror was repaired.

Malfoy stalked out of the bathroom, sucking the blood off his knuckles.

'_I need a new strategy. I can't believe I'm even thinking of this! I mean, how strong can Granger be? And now that Boot kid is in the way.'_

Malfoy chuckled. "Well he **does** seem to be her type. Brainy, bookworm, dorky, teacher's pet, kiss ass Ravenclaw. But even so I can't let him get to her. After I'm done he could have her. Plain and simple. But I get her first. Which means it's time for the elimination process."

"Talking to yourself, Malfoy?" asked Blaise Zabini, who had just entered the room.

"Fuck off, Zabini."

Blaise snorted as he walked to his bed, taking off his robe as he carelessly threw it on top of his trunk.

"What's so funny?" asked Draco, his form tensing.

Blaise, now carrying the typical college boy look with his white uniform shirt and his gray and green tie, plopped down on his bed, linked his hands behind his head and smiled mischievously at Draco.

"I have **so** won this bet, bro."

Malfoy's turn to laugh. "I highly doubt that."

"Come on. Just admit it. You're stuck."

"Stuck? **Me stuck**?! You make me laugh, Zabini."

"But you're not laughing," said Blaise.

"**Don't** be a smart-ass," said Draco, his jaw clenched.

Blaise sighed and looked above him. "I could just imagine all the information in the books of your father. The whole set…all those dark spells that could make me the most powerful—."

"Dream on Blaise. It's **your** set that will be mine. Get that clear."

"Not at this rate."

"You said I had all seventh year. I want to take my time."

"And since when have you ever been so patient? Face it…you have no choice _but_ to wait. You would have won long time ago if it weren't because she turned you down so many times."

"She did **not** turn me down. She's just playing hard to get."

"Mm-hm. Right. And you're a quiet, humble gentleman."

"Of course I am."

"Yea okay," said Blaise, and looked at Malfoy from the corners of his eyes.

And almost as if something had stung him, he shot up from his bed and calmly walked over to the bathroom.

"I'm going to be a good sport to you, Draco," he called from the bathroom.

"Oh really?" asked Draco, walking towards the bathroom and stopping at the threshold.

He leaned against the door frame and folded his arms as he watched Blaise take off his tie and shirt and start washing his face.

"Yea," said Blaise, drying his face with a towel and inspecting it in the mirror.

"By doing what?"

"By giving you my wise advice."

Malfoy unfolded his arms and stood up straight, his form tensing. "I don't need advice."

"And I'm a humble, _honest_ gentleman."

"I **don't** need help. I've got this down—"

"—the drain" finished Blaise, swinging the towel over his bare shoulder and slightly squeezed past Draco's firm statue and out of the bathroom.

"Are you questioning my game?"

"I have no questions about your **game**. It's quite clear to me that you have **none** what so ever when it comes to Granger," said Blaise, still walking towards his bed.

Malfoy was furious.

"Don't **fuck** with me, Zabini! Don't you **dare** fuck with me!!" yelled Malfoy, pointing furiously at Blaise's back.

Blaise turned around just in time to meet Draco, who had been walking towards him in anger, face to face.

"Do me a favor and stop being so fucking proud," answered Blaise, his blue eyes staring nonchalantly into Draco's fierce silver ones.

"Do **me** a favor and mind your own business!"

Blaise rolled his eyes and turned around. "Just accept the advice, man. It won't hurt."

"Why are you so keen on trying to help me out? Wouldn't you want me to loose this thing?"

"I'm just trying to be a good friend."

"Bullshit," said Draco, a smirk growing. "There's something more personal going on in here. I know you."

Blaise smiled innocently, "Why Draco dear. Why would you ever think that?"

"Cause you'd never help me."

Blaise's expression turned to that of a shocked mother. "I can't believe you just said that. I'm hurt!" exaggerated Blaise, walking towards Draco.

He reached for his flawless face, and looking deeply into his eyes he caressed it gently. "You know I'm always there for you."

Draco's eyes widened in horror. He slapped Blaise's hand off his cheek and took plenty steps away.

"YO WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING??!!" screamed Draco, still walking backwards.

Draco looked like he was about to cry of disgust. "YOU FUCKING HOMO DON'T **EVER** TOUCH ME AGAIN!!" he yelled, tripping backwards on Goyle's trunk.

Blaise burst into laughter, having to hang onto the four-poster bed for support.

Draco hardly touched the floor when he was up once again.

"Yo man, that's not funny! You planning to pull something like that more often do me a favor and take your shit and get out!!!"

The only thing Blaise was able to respond with was more laughter, his face tomato red.

"OH—man. Face…priceless!" said Blaise, his laughter increasing.

"My face? Don't you **ever **touch my face again! No matter **how **priceless it is…I'm serious! That wasn't funny Blaise!"

Blaise stood up on his own and moved to Draco, who was walking away from him.

"Ah come on, Malfoy. You know I ain't gay."

"No I don't!"

"Come on, honey. Be real."

"How can I take **your** side when you just called me _honey_!" whined Draco.

"It slipped out."

"I don't want nothing **else** slipping out, Zabini! You keep it **all** in, you hear?!"

"Draco I sleep with **girls**. And unless you're a lady—."

"I'm not a woman! I'm a **man**. A man that likes **women** and **_only_** women!!"

"I like women too—," said Blaise, starting to laugh at the whole matter.

"You could be bi---hey you just never know nowadays. And if you are…I-I have nothing against it. Just **don't **_f-flirt_ with **me**," said Draco, thinking he was being a very understanding friend.

"No man. I ain't none of that. You more than anyone knows I'll do anything to annoy you."

Draco paused for a momen, and thought about the time when Blaise walked about the common room hopping on one foot the whole day just to annoy him. When he purposely put the wrong ingredient in Potions during a test. When he breathed too loud…on purpose.When he scratched himself like a monkey. When he'd make perverted jokes regarding professors. And now…acting gay.

"Well," said Draco, panting hard in relief, his back against the wall and his finger pointing wearily at Blaise. "You went overboard on this one, buddy. You really—**don't** touch me," said Draco, his body stiffening as Blaise tried to put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Blaise stopped his hand half way and retrieved it. "Okay. I **won't** touch you," said Blaise, rolling his eyes and turning around to walk to the other end of the room.

Draco gulped deeply and regained his composure, pushing himself off the wall.

He cleared his throat, dusting his robes off.

"You know," said Blaise from the far window, making Draco look up from his robes. "I've been seeing this glow about Granger."

"…what?…"

"You know. That glow girls get when you talk to them. They get all flushed and giggly…ugh it's **so** annoying."

"What girl **doesn't** get like that when they're with me?" asked Draco, as if it were the most logical think in the world.

"I have an answer to that but that's not what I meant."

"Alright what **did** you mean?"

"When **I** talk to girls…when **you** talk to girls…when a girl speaks to a guy she likes…understand? They get all happy and red and laugh a lot."

"Okay. What's that got to do with Granger?"

"Well, Granger hasn't been herself lately," said Blaise, looking out the window…a light tap on the glass for emphasis.

"Did you catch her without a book?" asked Draco genuinely.

"Nope."

"She failed a test?"

"Never."

"Answered a question wrong?"

"No."

"She caused chaos in a classroom?"

"Get real."

"Then what is it?!" asked Draco, becoming impatient.

"She's been quiet in class."

Draco looked at Blaise as if he'd grown another head.

"You're _kidding _me right?"

"Not at all."

"Granger **never** shuts up in class. She's always answering questions and questioning the teachers."

"Exactly. Which brings me back to that glow about her I was talking about earlier."

"Glow?"

"Yes. Like a commoner in love with the Prince."

"In _love_?! She couldn't just be spacing out, huh?"

"No. That's what I thought at first. Potter must have another mission on his hands and she's trying to solve it or something. The typical. But then it wouldn't fit in with her blushing face and distant eyes."

"Blushing face? Distant eyes? What have you been checking her out or something?!"

"No…ew…"

"Then? Why are you so well informed at how she's been this past week and four days?"

"Week and four days? Since when do you count days?"

"Since when does it matter?" asked Draco in defense.

Blaise finally looked away from the window and at him.

"Just remember the rules, Malfoy. Granger is supposed to fall in love with you. Not **you** with her."

Blaise grew another head to Draco's eyes.

"**I'm** not in love with **Granger**!"

"I know. I'm just warning you."

"Against what?! Falling in **love**?! In case you don't know…Malfoys don't 'fall in love.' They fall in loads and loads of money with loads and loads of women."

"Your father—."

"My father doesn't count. **He** was lucky enough to meet a beautiful, well educated, kind, generous, caring, pureblood. My mum."

"But he's still a Malfoy?"

"But he's married."

"And you? You never plan on marrying?"

"**No**. Come on, there's enough of me to share. And I don't want to restrict myself to **one** woman."

"What about Parkinson?"

"What _about_ Parkinson?"

"Doesn't your father want you to marry her?"

"What do **I** care what my father wants?"

Blaise shrugged and looked back at the window. "True, very true."

. . .

. . .

. . .

"What are you looking at, Zabini? You've been staring out that damned window for ages now," said Draco as he walked towards the window.

"I'm gathering weapons," said Blaise.

"What?"

"Yea. As in…new ways to torment Granger."

Draco reached Blaise and looked at him as if annoyed. "You keep bringing her up."

"Cause I know why she's been glowing this past _week and four days_."

"Why?" asked Draco.

Blaise looked at his best friend and pointed to the window. "See for yourself."

Draco gave a final glance at Blaise before turning to look out the window and onto the grounds.

He felt his blood _boiling_ inside, his stomach _twisting_ into a complicated knot as his jaw clenched and hands became fists.

There was Hermione…in all her glory.

Sitting under the shade of the tree and a flower in her hand, Hermione was in heaven. And who was to be with her other than—

"_Boot_" whispered Draco.

"Yea. Terry Boot. He's in Ravenclaw and one of the top students. He's also your _competition_."

"**Competition?** That geek?!"

"Never underestimate the opponent, Draco. He's got all the charms a girl like **Granger** wants."

"Are you trying to tell me…what's he doing? What the hell is that idiot doing?"

"Looks like he's putting the flower in her hair. Ahh, there it is."

"What?"

"That glow. Look at how she looks down and…giggles…as he fixes the flower in her hair. Oh there you go. She's looking up again and…giggles…**aaaand** her stare goes back to her hands. Yep. She's falling."

"She's **what**?"

"She's falling for his charms."

"She'll fall for mine first."

"Only if you change them."

"…excuse me?…"

Blaise looked away from the window and at Draco.

"Look. Granger is way too focused in her life-goals so that she gets strayed away by a guy whom she already knows is bad news. That Boot kid…good news. She hasn't heard of him dumping girls the next day after sleeping with them. She hasn't been shoved against the wall by him. She hasn't—."

"Lived," smirked Draco. "Look. I'm not going to change for some mudblood. I don't even know why you're giving me _advice_. It makes no sense."

"Just pointing out the obvious."

Draco rolled his eyes and headed for the door.

"Where you headed?"

"That's none of your fucking business," said Draco, slamming the door as he left.

"He always says that."

!

!

!

"Is that really what you wish to do in your life? Help house elves?"

"Yea. It's not exactly my dream…I want to become an Auror. But it is my first priority."

"Truly admirable. Though I doubt that they'd want that freedom. The house elves that is. They like serving. They feel useless if they don't."

"That's because they don't know the possibility of another life."

"In other words they are close-minded?"

"Yes, I guess that's it."

"Well…what if _you're_ the close-minded one?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if it is _they_ who what to show _you_ about another point of view, but you refuse to open your eyes? It's a suggestion. What would I know?"

Hermione smiled. "You know, you're the only one that's told me that without getting their head bitten off."

"Then I'm lucky, I suppose."

"Yes, yes you are."

Terry looked at his watch. "Oh my. I'm terribly sorry Hermione, but I must be off. I have to write and send a letter before curfew…which only gives me half an hour."

"Oh," said Hermione, as she saw Terry get up and offer his hand to her. She gladly took it and was helped to her feet.

"It was great conversating with you, Hermione."

"Same-here," said Hermione quickly, mentally slapping herself for her lame response.

Terry smiled widely and brought her right hand to his lips.

"I do hope we could repeat such interesting conversations."

"Of course! I mean…so do I."

He let go of her hand and bowed slightly with his head. "Till then Miss Granger…_Hermione_."

Hermione bowed as well. "Till then Mr. Boot…_Terry_."

And he was off.

And Hermione was stupidly starting right after him, her eyes cloudy with dreamy thoughts and hopes.

_He's so…**perfect**. Educated, formal…the prince every girl wants. He treats me like queen, he wants to become a healer…comes from a decent family and is pretty good looking._

_He's so romantic…gentile…and he's a **nerd**_, she thought in affection. _Just like me_.

Hermione rose to her feet, the flower in her hair falling to the ground.

She picked it up, and was immediately taken back to her fantasy world as she too made her way back to her common room.

!

!

!

"Come on, Hermione! Just tell me!!"

"Harry I'd appreciate it if you'd just leave me alone."

"And **I'd** appreciate it if you told your best friend who gave you that flower."

"I picked it out of a garden."

"Where?"

"By a tree."

"Which tree?"

"I don't know! A tree, okay? **A tree**!"

"Oh I see. Don't feel like telling me?" said Harry, his left hand firmly against his chest and his right extended out as a stop sign…his face looking downward. "It's okay. I'll live."

He looked up and put his arms down. "It just hurts that **I** tell you everything and you can't tell me who the hell gave you a flower."

"Oh God Harry! It's not that serious!" said Hermione, trying to make her way to the staircase that led to her room.

Harry stepped in front of her, an over-excited expression on his face. "So someone **did** give you that flower!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, unable to avoid the smile growing on her face. "Yes…someone **did** give me this flower."

Harry's face broke into the most childish smile you'll ever see on a seventeen year old. "Ooooo! Who? Who??!!"

"No one important. We're just friends."

"Yea right! You think I haven't noticed…but I have. Oh **yes** I have. You have no idea but I _have_ noticed."

"Noticed what?"

"This past week you've been _daydreaming_," said Harry, looking at the ceiling with the back of his right hand dramatically on his forehead…his voice trying to sound as girly as possible.

"Oh my love! How I await your next sign…a _look_…a _smile_…a _fart_…_**anything**_! How I dream about our future, and the day you'll rescue me from this **_EVIL_** castle. From these good-for-nothing imbeciles…from these morons with no—."

"You. Are. Pathetic."

Harry looked at Hermione and removed his hand from his forehead.

"You. Are. No. Fun,"

Hermione rolled her eyes and tried to walk pass Harry, but he was too quick for her.

With one hand on each railing and his body moving side to side he was able to block her path.

"Can you let me through?!"

"Not until you tell me."

"Well I'm not saying anything. It wasn't even a 'hope-we-can-go-on-a-date-sometime' flower. It was more like a 'your-hair-is-so-bad -that-maybe-this-flower-will-help, but-I-doubt -it' flower."

"Oooo. He put it in you **hair**?! Wow this guy is **serious.** I need to get some pointers from him…"

"Harry! He's just a friend!"

"I don't think so. This guy must be special if he has Little Miss Perfect's head in the clouds. So out with it!"

"You're overreacting! It's **just** a flower."

Harry smiled testingly. "Let me see it."

"See what?"

"The flower."

"Oh," said Hermione, lifting the flower so that he had a better look at it.

Harry went to reach for it, but she pulled away.

"Let me see it!" smiled Harry.

"You see with your eyes, not with your hands."

"I thought it was **just** a flower," said Harry, his hand returning to the railing in a flash as Hermione tried to run through.

"It is…but it's **my** flower."

"If I gave you a flower, I doubt that you'd cherish it that much."

"That's not true!"

"Oh yes it is."

"No!"

"Alright. What happened to that teddy bear I gave you for your birthday?"

"Oh that's—."

"And that stuffed animal Ron gave you that resembled Crookshanks."

"Uhh—."

"And those pink roses Ron and I gave you for Easter last year. All you said was 'Oh my God, thanks you guys'…gave us a hug and a kiss…ran up to your dormitory, put them in water…came back down…went back up for your shoes…came back down…studied and did homework—"

"Well what was I **supposed** to do?!"

"And when we asked you how the flowers were getting along **two days later**…you said 'Oh I threw them away because they were all droopy and dead'."

"Fine. So I find this flower has more meaning to it. So what?"

"So I want to know who gave it to you!"

Hermione had had it.

"Harry Potter, if you don't move out of my way…I'll hex you so bad you'd wish you'd never—."

"You can't hex me without a wand, Hermione," said Harry.

Hermione looked confused. She reached into her pocket and retrieved her wand. " But my wand's right here—"

"Not anymore!" yelled Harry, as he easily snatched it from her hand, shoved past her and hid behind a couch.

"Give that back!"

"Not until you tell me who gave you that flower, little miss missy!"

"Little miss _what_?" asked Hermione, carefully setting the flower on a nearby table.

"Little Miss Missy!"

"Where'd **that** come from?"

"I don't know. I guess I'm just that creative!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes, almost calculating his reactions, and then moved towards the couch.

She sighed. _I'm too old for this_.

"Harry I'm really tired. Could you please give me my wand so that I may go to sleep?"

"You don't look tired to me, Hermione. You look about ready to daydream about that guy."

Hermione ran around the couch, and Harry did the same. "Ooh. I'm too fast for you huh? Can't catch me, now can you? Nope, no possible—oomph!"

Hermione had jumped over the couch and onto Harry, making him fall backwards onto the floor.

"Ouch! Why'd you do that?!" asked Harry, stretching his arm so that Hermione was unable to get her wand.

"Give-me-my-wand!"

Harry easily pushed her off and made a run for his room.

"Harry be careful it's really delicate!" she yelled, running after him.

Harry, after running up the stairs and down the hall, stopped in front of his room to catch his breath and wait for Hermione.

Keeping the wand behind his back, he smiled the smile that made him the third hottest guy in the school.

"You know, this would have been easier if you had just **told** me who it was."

"Why does it matter?!"

"Cause I'm a nosy person…**and** you do it to me all the time."

"Will you give me my wand back if I tell you?"

"Yes. It's of no use to me after you tell me who it is."

"Fine then, but you can't say a word to anyone. **Including **Ron."

Harry frowned. "What's wrong with Ron knowing?"

"I don't know. I'm not liking him much lately."

"Why? You two used to be so…_close_. We used to tell each other everything."

"Key words, _used to._ As in, _not anymore_."

"I miss those days…"

"You want to know or not?!"

"Fine fine fine. Who's the victim?"

"Harry!!"

He laughed and put his free hand as a stop sign, leaning against the wall to catch his breath.

"Sorry, sorry. Let me rephrase it. Who's the _lucky_ guy?"

"See, now you're just being sarcastic—"

"Out with it Hermione!!!"

"Alright, alright. Sheesh! Can't put in our recent thoughts before breaking news without getting your—."

"Blah blah blah. **Who is it?**"

"Okay. Are you ready for this?" asked Hermione, her hands out and open as if ready to pull a rabbit out of a hat.

"Yea," said Harry lazily.

"Are you sure."

"Yea."

"Positive?"

"Absolutely."

"Are you—."

"**Come on already!**"

"Okay, okay. It's Terry Boot."

. . .

. . .

. . .

"No come on. Just tell me."

Hermione looked taken aback. "What's wrong with Terry?"

"Would you just tell me who it _really_ is?" pleaded Harry.

"It **is** Terry," said Hermione, shrugging her shoulders.

"_Phony_?!"

"Excuse me?"

"Hermione…Terry Boot. That Ravenclaw kid?"

"Yes, the very same."

"The guy that always acts like he's Prince Charming?"

"He **is**."

"The guy that thinks he's better than everyone else and gives us these amazing stories that make no sense just to make himself look good?"

"Uhh—I guess."

"Oh," said Harry, handing Hermione back her wand. "Just checking."

"So…you're okay with it?"

"Yea," was Harry's short reply.

"Really?!"

"So long as he doesn't break your heart or mine…I'm good with it."

"Cool."

. . .

"Okay no really. **Tell me**."

Hermione's jaw clenched in frustration when she realized he was serious.

"You know what? I have no time for this, I'm going to check the halls."

"Hermione!" yelled Harry as she descended the stairs to leave the common room. "I thought we were close!!"

!

!

!

**A.N: **We're getting closer to the turning point of the story!!! I added more comedy into this…to show that Malfoy and Zabini don't act like their fathers ALL the time.

Hope you enjoyed it and I have to give a shout out to **all** my reviewers…it hadn't reached 200 yet…but that was okay. I was only 4 away!

And my last reviewer…Billy…who reviewed that my story was **a piece of shit**…I have to say that when I read that…I laughed really hard. Cause right now he's the only one who seems to think like that. And if you really think that, Billy Boy, then why'd you waste your time reading chapters 1-10?? …hmmm…

HEY…not everyone's going to like my story!!!

LOVE YOU ALL!!!

**_PLEASE R-E-V-I-E-W_**!!!!!


	12. On Duty

**Chapter Twelve: On Duty**

'_Harry could be so **thick** sometimes! **How** he became Headboy beats me, but I rather him than Ron._

'_I mean...Harry just doesn't get it, does he? **Terry Boot.** There's no other Terry that I know of! I mean...what's wrong with Terry?'_

Hermione allowed a smile to creep onto her lips.

'_Nothing's wrong with him. He's absolutely perfect! No questions asked. He's the best Hogwart's got. But **Harry** doesn't see that, does he? He made Terry sound like a lying snitch!'_

She sighed, trying to calm herself down...but it wasn't going to work, and she knew it.

Hermione saw a little first year girl rushing out of a girl's lavatory, and decided to take her frustration out on her.

"Hey, what are you doing out of your common room at this hour?"

The girl turned around and froze at the sight of Hermione.

"Um...um...I needed to use the bathroom..."

"What house do you belong to?"

"Hufflepuff."

"What is your name?"

"Um...um..."

"My God child. You don't know your own name?"

"Yes I do...it's...it's Anne Blurr."

"...You're _real_ name."

The girl turned red and looked to her feet.

"Catherine Greene."

"Well Ms. Greene, do you know what time it is?"

"...no..."

_Damn_, thought Hermione. _Neither do I! How am I supposed to teach this girl a lesson if I don't know the time to prove to her that it's late?!_

"Well you **do **know that it is very late, correct?"

"Yea."

"**Yes**."

"_Yes."_

"Very well Catherine Greene, this is a warning. Now get to your common room. I don't want to see you out in the halls at this time again, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now leave before I take you to your Head Of House."

The girl's eyes widened before she turned around and ran away.

Hermione took out a pad and wrote Hufflepuff down.

_Depending on my mood tomorrow...I'll take away house points._

"So you take joy in tormenting others?"

Hermione turned around in surprise, and at sight of the person, sighed with boredom.

"No that's your job, Malfoy. What are you doing out here at this hour?"

He smirked. "What, you're going to _warn_ me too?"

"Shove it Malfoy. **What** are you doing here?"

"**That **is none of your business," said Malfoy, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

"it actually is. You see...I'm Headgirl," said Hermione, lifting the little notepad so that he would be able to understand. "I have the power to take away house-points from your house."

"As do I Granger, you want to play around like that?"

"I have no time for this," said Hermione, rolling her eyes and turning around to continue her watch.

"Figures," said Malfoy quietly.

Hermione chose to ignore him. "I _said_ I had not time for this," she said loudly, still walking down the hall.

"Why? Cause your too busy fucking Boot?"

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, her lips centimeters apart due to her disbelief.

"**_Excuse me_**?!"

Malfoy smirked and pushed himself off the wall. "You heard me, Granger. You think I don't know that you've been spending time with that moronic _loser_?"

"Loser?!" asked Hermione, spinning around to face him.

"That's right," said Malfoy, advancing towards her. "That geek. Even _you_ could do much better."

_Oh no. Don't come closer...stop, stop...stop!_

"Don't get any closer!" said Hermione. "I'm serious. Malfoy stop! Don't take another step!"

He stopped and looked at her with that superiority about him. "Why?"

_Cause I don't like what happens to me when you do._

"Granger I believe I asked you a question."

"Because...I have to go," said Hermione, turning around quickly. Her eyes darted from side to side, wondering to herself why she had gotten so nervous.

Why am I running away? Yea I'm terrified of him...but I never make it so obvious!

_Hermione what are you doing?! Turn around! Put him in his place!_

She heard footsteps start to follow her and she started walking faster.

_No, no no...leave me alone! What did I do to get stuck with **him** alone in a hallway at night when no one is around?_

No...put this conceited idiot in his place so that he leaves you alone for good... 

Hermione spun around, a determined look on her face. She took a deep breath, Malfoy still walking in forceful strides.

Hermione saw his eyes in the distance...and all fears returned to her stomach. Those stormy gray eyes that enchanted every girl in Hogwarts.

"M-Malfoy. Stay-stay away. I'm warning you—" stuttered Hermione, but Malfoy acted as if deaf, a _demanding_ look in his silver orbs.

He was getting closer, not listening to her at all.

"Malfoy I'm not joking!"

He was feet away.

"Stop right th—."

He didn't wait for her to acknowledge the fact that he had reached her before his hands grasped her face and he placed his lips onto hers.

Hermione stood rooted to her spot, her eyes still wide open and unbelieving. He seemed almost..._impatient._

Draco Malfoy was demanding and forceful...not impatient. You're only impatient when you're expecting something that doesn't come. When you _want_ something that takes too long to obtain.

Hermione closed her eyes, and she was immediately taken to another world. She forgot about Harry, Ron, school, and even Terry. She even forgot about the fact that she was kissing Malfoy, and concentrated on how good it felt.

She felt his tongue brush against her bottom lip, and parted her lips to allow it entry.

Her head was spinning, and there was nothing else she felt capable of doing other than taking hold of his face as well, the growing butterflies in her stomach causing her to rise on her toes and deepen the kiss.

Malfoy smirked into the kiss, his hands going to the small of her back and pulling her as close as humanly possible.

A shiver went down Hermione's spine as her stomach made contact with his muscular abdomen.

_She wanted more._

Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth some more, her tongue becoming dominant in its investigation.

Malfoy almost stopped in surprise.

_Wow. Where's that coming from?_

His hand slid up her back and settled between her shoulder blades, pulling that part of her to be in contact.

He became more aggressive, wanting more and more of her. He...he _needed _more of her. He_ **wanted** _her_._

'She's mine. I won't let anyone else have her...I've waited too long to kiss her again. I'm not letting go now...'

The thought alone made his eyes open, caused him to spring apart from Hermione, and to look at her like she belonged to another planet.

It took Hermione a while to open her eyes...wanting to hold onto the moment as long as possible. But when she did, there was nothing but question in her eyes.

Malfoy ran his hand through his hair, avoiding her stare as much as possible, taking small glances nonetheless.

He seemed to have an inner battle with himself...something Slytherins never do.

'_They're always in control. What's wrong with him?' _thought Hermione, her forehead creasing in confusion.

Malfoy looked up to the dim yellow light of the hall, which Hermione noticed complemented his hair.

His hand found it's way to the bridge of his nose as his eyes closed in thought.

'What's wrong with me? **Why** am I remembering the name of the girl I'm kissing? Why am I even **thinking** about the girl I'm kissing while I'm kissing her? Why do I think she's such a good kisser? Why am I making such a **scene**?'

'..._cause you **really** want that encyclopedia set Zabini Manor holds...'_

"Oh yea," whispered Malfoy, his eyes opening and turning to look at Hermione.

"Oh yea _what_, Malfoy?" asked Hermione in a tone that screamed sarcasm.

She couldn't deny it any longer. She was...embarrassed. It wasn't **her** that had stopped the kiss. It was **he.** Now she had nothing to say to him to keep her from just standing there feeling stupid and sluttish.

And it must have been the first time he had noticed...or the first time he had let himself notice...

**Hermione had a pretty face.**

'_No. It's just the lighting,'_ thought Malfoy, shaking his head in disbelief, yet unable to detach his eyes from her.

The darkish candle-lighting in the hall brought out Hermione's eyes. He had always seen them as normal and ordinary. Nearly _everyone_ had brown or dark brown eyes.

But the candle gave them that little push needed to be noticed. Her eyes, honey brown and...innocent.

_**Pure**._

And her hair didn't look bushy. It was still out of control and roughly put into a low and loose, half bun that's really made out of an unfinished pony-tail...but it held graceful and healthy curls.

And her face..._wasn't_ angelic when kept waiting. Her skin was even and fair. About two small pimples...her nose wasn't big, her lips were pink, and her cheeks flushed. She had a long neck, but not too long as for it to resemble a giraffe's neck.

His eyes traveled down.

_Well there's not much there,_ thought Malfoy. _She must be a...what? Ahh why do I even try with them robes she has on? And for her height...no more than 5'5...it's ok. Her weight...judging from experience...she's a **stick**. About...103...105? And her legs..._

"**What** are you looking at, Malfoy?!"

"Apparently nothing much. Why?"

Hermione couldn't avoid the deep flush that crept onto her cheeks as self-consciousness settled in. "Well I suggest you don't look at what you don't like."

"Well I can't really see with those robes on," said Malfoy, nearing towards her with a suggestive look in his eyes. "How's about we take them off and see what's under there?" he whispered, his arms slowly surrounding her.

She moved back, her eyes wide and unbelieving. "How **dare** you speak to me about...you're a...who do you..."

"Ooh look who's stuttering. Scared Granger?" asked Malfoy, his head turning slightly to his left as his right eyebrow rose.

Hermione's breath increased into stubborn short breaths. "I am **not** scared of you, Malfoy. I never have been and I never **will** be—"

Before Hermione had a chance to blink, Malfoy harshly grabbed her by her upper arms and pulled her towards him, leaving them mere inches apart.

Unwillingly, Hermione issued a small gasp of surprise and fear. Her eyes widened and looked right into Malfoy's teasing ones.

"You were saying?" he said in a low, deep voice. He laughed teasingly yet evilly before letting her go.

"I was **saying** that I would never...that you are a pathetic moron with who's cruel and mean and evil and—."

"Why _thank you_."

"It **wasn't** a complement! You think you're so..._hard..._but I think it's just a façade to cover up for the true, clueless man that both you **and** your father are. You think yourself—"

Malfoy grabbed her face with his right hand, squeezing her cheeks painfully. "Don't you **ever**," said Malfoy, his left hand pointing it's index finger menacingly stiff at her, "compare me with my father. _Understood?!_"

Hermione was hardly able to speak, half out of shock and half out of the inconvenience that her jaw could barely move; but she managed a weak yes, causing Malfoy to let go of her face with a brain rattling yank outward.

Her hand went to hold her cheeks, her palm settled on her chin. She looked at Malfoy straight in the eye, refusing to breakdown or show weakness in front of him. Instead she clenched her jaw hatefully as her nose flared angrily; blinking away the hardly-noticeable tears that could only come about due to a traumatizing event.

Malfoy too had his jaw clenched, and in a split second, turned around and walked away...his robes swishing behind him.

_...Fuck..._

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!

!

**AN:** Okay...**very** short, I know. But I hadn't updated in a while and I figured something was better than nothing. Okay UPCOMMING CHAPTER...

"**A new interference"** features another person getting in the way of this..._relationship_, **AND** a little revelation of Draco's childhood memories...his paren**t**...

(No it's not one of those stories that justify Draco's actions with a terribly sad and horrible home life.)

And PLEASE...review!!! **I DO NOT GET MOTIVATED TO WRITE WITHOUT A LOT OF REVIEWS...AND THE NEXT TWO CHAPTERS ARE THE _LONGEST_ ONES YET...SO _P-L-E-A-S-E REVIEW!!!!!!!_**


	13. A New Interference

**Chapter Thirteen: A New Interference **

"Listen to me...it's not going to work! Can you please just stop to think about this? I mean...this 'plan' of yours seems preposterous!" yelled Parvati, looking at the ceiling of her dormitory room as she unwillingly listened to her best friend.

"Oh come on, Parvati! Where's your thrill-of-the-moment spirit?"

"I lost it when I saw the extent of the consequences."

"Don't be an old hag. Everything's going to be just fine...I promise. All you have to do—."

"**I'm** not doing **anything**! I'm out of this! You can do whatever you want but—."

"Don't tell me you want to pass out on this one-and-only chance. Come on! The **one** day that Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, **and** Headmaster Dumbledore are absent for some apparent reason...you decide to be good!"

"Look Lavender. It's not like we're alone. They'd never leave us alone and you very well know that. And going after—."

"I'm not going after **anybody**! I'm merely _advancing_ the inevitable."

"The inev... you make me sick. You really do."

Lavender rolled her eyes as she sat on the chair in front of the beauty-parlor she and Parvati had so passionately fought all staff to get years ago. Applying mascara she looked at Parvati through the mirror.

"Well come on. Get ready!"

"I already told you I'm **not** going anywhere."

Lavender sighed and put the tiny little brush down. She turned around to face Parvati, an impatient, bored and sympathetic look on her face. "Are you in any relationship?"

Parvati furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "...no..."

"Do you have a major crush on anybody?"

"Major? No, not really."

"Then?!" exclaimed Lavender, her arms and hands out as if holding two big plates.

"Then I don't want to meddle with the wrong—."

"Look. It's not like **you** have to deal with Malfoy. **I** do. And I _know_ you've been dying to get a chance with Zabini so why not?! You do your own business with Blaise and I with Draco," said Lavender, her last line starting quiet but finishing loud due to excitement.

Parvati raised an eyebrow. "So let me get this straight. You want **me** to go with **you** and sneak to the Slytherin Common Rooms and see what can happen?"

"Basically," shrugged Lavender. "Except that—"

"I'll tell you what will happen. We don't need to go...I can tell you right now what's to happen! We get there and **stay** there doing absolutely nothing! Not to mention we'll look like desperate whores waiting..._hoping_...to get laid. And those hideous and savage boys will hound us and probably offer us drinks with a load of not-so-good spells and rape us!"

"Parvati that's **not**—."

"I'm not done. If none of that happens, or **before** all of that happens...everyone's going to ask **what** we're doing there...being Gryffindors...and what shall we say?! And what if they're not there? What if they **are** but already have a girl for the night? And what makes you so _sure_ that they'll let us into the Common Room in the first place?!!"

Lavender, chin on chair, looked nonchalantly at Parvati. "Are you finished?"

Parvati made a face at Lavender that said no less than 'very funny.' "Yes I'm quite done."

"Good, because now I can explain myself," she said cheerfully, now sitting up.

"Please do," said Parvati sourly.

"Well," sighed Lavender. "I'm not stupid enough to take us to Slytherin_ Common Rooms_. Everything you said would happen **would** have happened...but when I tried to cut in earlier—."

"Which was rude."

Lavender gave her a pointed look before continuing. "_When I cut in earlier_...I tried to say that that was not **the plan**. The plan was to catch them on their way to the Prefect's bathroom."

"That wouldn't make any sense though. What would we be doing in the Prefect's bathroom if we have one of our own in our dormitory? The whole **school** knows that we do cause we made a huge battle against the staff for it last year."

"Well...how do I put it? The **Prince** is still required to report to the castle while the **King** can do whatever he wishes."

"Meaning that **I** have to put up with walking through Slytherin while you get to have Malfoy here?"

"No. It's saying that you have to stay in the Prefect's bathroom and—."

"And what makes you think that I'll **want** to sleep with Blaise Zabini?! Who do you think I am?"

"Oh God. Okay, fine. _Don't _go."

"No! You didn't answer my question, Lavender!" said Parvati, her palm condemningly against her chest. "Who do you think I am?"

Lavender rolled her eyes and turned around to look at her through the mirror. She lifted up the bottle of mascara and started to apply it on her eyelashes.

"I think you're Parvati Patil," said Lavender, closing the bottle and moving on to the foundation.

"And who's that?" asked Parvati, hands on her hips.

"My best friend, okay? Would you give it a rest?" asked Lavender, still applying the concealer under her eyes.

"No. You think I'm a whore that's so _desperate_ as to go after Blaise Zabini and chase him till he sleeps with me."

"Look," said Lavender sternly, now applying the powder to hide the small acne she had. "It's nothing like that and nothing of the sort was crossing my mind. If you'd just relax for a bit and just live for the moment! I mean," said Lavender, setting the powder down and looking at Parvati like she was the most confusing equation she had ever come across with. "What's gotten into you?"

"Common sense!" yelled Parvati. "Listen to me," she said a bit loudly, in a pleading manner. "Don't do something so stupid for a guy like Malfoy. He'll tell you nice things and the _moment_ you give yourself up to him...he'll_ **leave **_you. It's as **simple** as that!!"

Lavender sighed with boredom. "Oh please. I have my charms, Parvati. I'll make him fall in love with me, and he will. No questions asked. He won't be able to resist me and he won't be able to live without me. You wait and see."

"Oh Lavender," whined Parvati. "I thought the same thing! I don't want you to get hurt or humiliated like I did."

"I'm not. No offense but _everyone _says and knows that I'm prettier than you are. As a matter of fact...since I beat you last year...I've been the prettiest girl in Gryffindor. So he's **bound** to love me more than you and therefore...maybe even marry me!"

Parvati snorted. "That'll be the day."

"Yes. That will be the day," said Lavender, carefully lining her lips with black lip-liner, "when he and I will be the happiest beings on earth."

Parvati's hand went to her forehead in exhaustion. "You know what? Don't talk to me."

Lavender snapped her confused gaze to Parvati, causing her to slightly strain her neck in the process.

Parvati continued as if nothing had changed. "You go do whatever the hell you want to do. But you're not dragging **me** along," she said, the hand that was on her forehead now pointing to her stomach.

"But I can't do this without you!" pleaded Lavender.

"Then do me the favor and don't do it!!" yelled Parvati, walking out of the room with a slam of the door.

Lavender stared at the door where Parvati just left and shrugged, turning to her reflection.

"She's just jealous," said Lavender, applying deep red lipstick.

She quickly brushed the knots out of her straight brown hair, and put on the planned outfit...that belonged under her robes...

"Draco Malfoy..._here I come_."

* * *

Hermione muttered the password that would allow her an entry to her Common Room, wiping the tears that somehow had escaped her determination of not crying with her sleeve.

She sniffed, and was positive her nose, if not her whole face, was red.

She couldn't believe it. She was _crying_ because of Malfoy! It was ridiculous, it really and truly was. She wasn't crying because he _dared_. She was crying because...he had scared her half to death.

She had frozen. She, Hermione Granger, had frozen. _Completely frozen_.

She's had her mishaps now and then...such as not thinking straight when under pressure and on a 'mission' with Harry and Ron. When she received shocking news. When she was with Terry. But even then...she'd _move_. She'd _think_ of something to say or do. She'd _breathe_.

Other than that...she never froze on tests. Homework. Brainstorming. Answering back...but with Malfoy...it was another story.

When he grabbed her face like that, she really **_froze_**. She couldn't think, she couldn't move and she had even forgotten to breathe.

She was so...scared. She had been afraid of Malfoy for a while now. That's why she'd always tell Harry to just ignore him. Told Ron the same thing. She had been scared _for_ them. Of course she'd never admit or show it...it wasn't Gryffindor-like. And she had a pride as big as any Slytherin.

But as if that were not enough, when he had her face in that powerful grip of his...she didn't even had the mental capacity to scream. It's like when you're but a child in your bedroom in the darkness of night, and you fear a monster will out of nowhere slash out and grab you...and then it actually happens.

You'd think you'd scream...that would be the obvious. But she wouldn't do it when it came to Malfoy because...she had just said she wasn't afraid of him. But she was.

He was her biggest fear.

"What's wrong, my dear? You seem down tonight," asked the wizard in the portrait...leaning over and onto his desk in concern.

Hermione managed a weak smile. "Oh it's nothing, sir."

"But dear child you're crying!"

Hermione laughed. "Yes I believe so."

"Why ever the reason?"

"Because I'm tired from the long day I've had and I'm desperate for some rest."

The wizard's head gave half of a nod upwards. "Ah. I see," he said, smiling knowingly. "I may be old...but I can still see and hear hints when they're thrown at me."

And with that he swung open and allowed Hermione entrance.

Praying that Harry were in his room so that he wouldn't bombard her with questions, she stepped into her common room and walked straight to her staircase.

Her face contrasted slightly, and more tears fell. Tears that she immediately brushed away with the piece of sleeve that covered her palm.

Head down, she rushed up the rest of the stairs and entered her room, accidentally slamming it as she leaned against it.

She took deep breaths and weakly reached for the doorknob, turning the lock. She turned the doorknob to make sure that it was closed, and when its turn was limited...she felt free to cry all that she wanted.

* * *

Draco ran a frustrated hand through his now unruly hair for the hundredth time and left his hand atop his head for a rest.

"You might have overreacted back there, mate," said Blaise, taking a huge bite out of a green apple.

Draco, in the bathroom and out of Blaise's sight, bit his knuckles in self-anger. But he had to play it off. There was no way he would show Blaise that treating Granger like he did was bothering him. He had to figure out why himself first.

"I mean. I know just how strong that grip of yours is, Draco. And I know just how delicate a bitch's face could be. I also know how you get when you're angry, and frankly," said Blaise, swallowing and taking another bite from his apple. "It's not pretty."

Draco took his hand off his head and leaned against the closed bathroom door, looking at the ceiling.

Taking a deep breath, he put his face in his hands and tried to pull himself together. Looking up, he turned around, opened the door and walked into the room with a powerful sneer on his face.

Goyle was on his bed, a plate full of goodies next to him as he looked through a photo album. Blaise, in his half naked glory was happily finishing his apple on his bed, sucking his teeth so that nothing escaped its journey down his throat.

"I know it's not," said Draco, taking off his robe. "But I can't say that I really care. It's just little mudblood Granger."

"But you'll never get her like that. Grabbing her face...it's not going to help," said Blaise, throwing his finished apple at Goyle.

"What the hell was that for, Zabini?"

"You like food...I'd figure you'd be grateful if I gave you a bit of my very tasty apple," said Blaise the Smart Ass.

"There's nothing left!" said Goyle, looking closely at the apple.

"Sure there is."

"Where?"

"What's that you're holding in your hand?"

"The core of the apple."

"What's that?"

"It's a part of the apple—"

"See? Why would I lie to you? For your information I'm an honest young—ouch!" said Blaise, as his apple found it's way to this head with amazing force.

"Guys! Come on. I'm about to go to sleep and I don't want any interruptions, is that understood?!" said Draco, a pair of plaid pajama pants as his only clothing.

"Where's Crabb?" asked Blaise, paying no mind to Draco's statement. The apple in his hand, Blaise had the intention of throwing it in the garbage basket, but missed terribly.

"He said something about raping some girl."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Again? Gosh has he no shame?! At least the girls _want_ it when I fuck them," he chuckled. "But then again...who could resist me? And who wants **Crabb**."

Goyle laughed as he stuffed his mouth with a muffin. "Said dat ya gir nin'nt no—"

"...what? Sorry I didn't quite get that since your mouth was full," said Blaise.

Goyle swallowed the muffin and wiped his mouth with his hand. "I _said_ that Vinn said the girl didn't know he was onto her."

"Vinn. That's interesting. Instead of Vincent. It's way better that Vinny, that's for sure. So you know who the girl is?"

"Yea, she's in Gryffindor" said Goyle, taking another bite of his rather huge muffin.

Draco, who had been trying to stuff his robes into the hamper in the bathroom, stopped what he was doing and...hands still in the hamper...moved so that he was able to look out of the bathroom and to Goyle.

"Gryffindor?"

"Yea. I keep forgetting her name. I think you guys just mentioned her in **one** of the many conversations you have about the ladies."

Draco looked at Blaise, who looked back with eyebrows so high up Draco could have sworn they were about to disappear into his hairline.

He took a moment to get his hands out of the hamper and walked to the threshold of the bathroom. "Are you sure?"

"Yea. He's headed to Gryffindor right now. Actually he left a while ago."

"But I was here the whole time. I didn't see him come in."

"He never came to the dorm. He waited till the time came in the Common Room. Hey anyone want a cupcake?"

"Ooh yea!" said Blaise, but Draco politely declined.

"Greg, do you know this girl Vinn's after?"

"No!" said Goyle, shaking his head hastily. "I'm a Slytherin."

Draco sighed in impatience. "Do you know her **_name_**?"

"Uhh—I'd be lying to you if I said yes."

* * *

Parvati Patil walked out of the Pink Lady's Portrait and walked unconsciously wherever her feet carried her.

She couldn't pretend she didn't care. Lavender was her best friend...but she was also stubborn. How could she help her if she's reluctant?

She didn't want Lavender to hurt the way she had been. The endless nights of tears on her pillow...the feeling that everyone saw you for your one mistake...for being "easy." But it had nothing to do with selling yourself. Malfoy had been the one and only boy she had been with.

No. She had been gullible. She believed his words as if they were law. How she was different from every other girl. How she was the only girl he really liked. They were all lies...and Lavender was headed that very same way.

She wanted to tie Lavender up to her bed and prevent her from committing the stupidity of her life. But of course...it was none of her business. She had already told her what she should do. Now it was up to Lavender to decide whether or not she'll accept it...and if she'll stick to it. Which by the looks of it the answer would be a definite no.

Lavender _was_ pretty though. With her straight brown hair that hardly passed her shoulder blades, and those stunning green eyes. Not to mention her body was that of pure perfection. Measurements being 36-24-36...she was the envy of all.

And even so...Parvati wasn't jealous of her. You're just not jealous of someone you've gone through so much with.

Three times they've fought side by side against Hogwart's staff in the name of _necessity_ when it was really just vanity. They each bought their first bra for each other...and have gone through other 'puberty' situations that only they knew about at the time.

Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger might have had their adventures but Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown weren't far behind. Between sleepover dares and spontaneous moments during the summer and school year...she considered it just-a-good adventures as those Harry Potter is known for.

But Lavender was in charge of her life...and obviously she had the intention of messing it up.

Parvati turned the corner of the corridor and found herself face to face with none other than...

"_Crabb_? What on bloody earth are you doing here?!" asked Parvati, frustrated that her daydreaming proved her foolish enough to bump into someone as visible as Vincent Crabb.

He just looked down at her, his stare blank and almost satanic.

"I **asked** you a question. This is Gryffindor Territory...and you're the exact opposite," said Parvati.

Crabb did nothing. She couldn't even tell whether or not he was breathing, and frankly...it scared her.

Parvati, now a bit disturbed, pushed past him. "Freak," she murmured.

She walked down the hall and discreetly looked ahead to see if there was anyone else there. When she found no one, her pace increased.

Her plan? To make her way back to her Common Room.

But she didn't want to look stupid. Crabb could easilly look back and laugh cause he knew she was scared of him. Enough to run away. That just gave Slytherins power and she wasn't going to allow it.

She heard footsteps following her, but she didn't dare turn around.

'_It's just my imagination. I'm getting way too paranoid._'

She started to run none the less, and could feel herself sweating on the back of her neck. She had never really ran before in her life, and she felt herself rather slow.

The footsteps behind her also began to run, the squeaks of leather shoes very audible.

And in a moment of panic, Parvati lost her balance and fell on all fours.

Within milli-seconds she felt someone grab her waist and hoist her weight into the air, causing an unpleasant lurch in her stomach.

Opening her mouth to scream, she tasted a dirty, salty hand being placed over her mouth. Kicking and scratching every bit of flesh she was able to get her hands on didn't seem to be working.

She felt the arm that carried press agonizingly against her stomach with each step the he made. He being, as Parvati realized, Vincent Crabb.

"Didn't know you were so heavy, baby."

Parvati tried to scream even louder, and when she was finally able to place her feet on the ground, she started frantically jumping up and down...hoping to escape his grip.

It was useless. His fat but firm arms kept her in place, and soon she felt tears sting at the corners of her eyes.

Crabb looked around the corner, and when no one was in sight, he ran down the hall and opened the door to a closet. With one last look at both ends of the hall, he shoved Parvati's struggling form inside and closed the door.

Parvati, who had fallen into a whole bunch of detergent bottles got up and looked around. What was going on?

"HELLO?! IS ANYBODY THERE? HELP ME I--" screamed Parvati, unable to continue any more due to her choked sobs.

She didn't dare open the door. What if he was out there? Waiting? Wand at the ready to commit murder...

'_Oh get real, Parvati! He's not going to kill someone in school! And if he were why would it be you?'_

The back of her hand to her mouth, as if trying not to vomit, she took deep and determined breaths. What was her only way out?

_Her wand._

She frantically searched her pockets for her wand, and happily retrieved it, pointing it to the door.

Her hand was shaking horribly. She wasn't brave, but she wasn't stupid either. She just hoped she could be productive under the pressure.

The door creaked open, and Crabb quickly entered it, locking the door behind him. He eyed the shaking wand warily.

"R-r-rectusem—rectusempra!" yelled Parvati, but nothing happened. Instead, Crabb dashed for the wand and yanked it out of her hands.

Throwing the wand to the side to be lost in the darkness along with the many cleaning products, Crabb smiled evilly at Parvati.

She retrieved to the back of the closet, her heart thumping crazily as she watched him pull down his pants.

**(A.N: THIS SCENE IS DETAILED. IF YOU DO NOT WISH TO READ THIS SITUATION ANY FURTHER (REBECCA)...SKIP DOWN TO THE NEXT SCENE. Thank you.)**

"N-no," whispered Parvati in terror. "N-no you can't do this to me. I...I..._please._ Let me go. I-I won't say a word to anyone! I swear it I'll—"

"Shut the fuck up!" said Crabb, his pants at his ankles. "I don't like it when food talks."

Parvati couldn't help it. Her eyes wide in fear, she looked below his waist.

_Oh...My...God..._

She had seen one before. All the while she and Malfoy were going out...she'd seen his erection. But seeing Crabb's...which in all bluntness was fat...she was terrified.

"Like what you see?" asked Crabb, so sure of himself.

_Not really_, thought Parvati, but said nothing.

She had to get out. She had to...even if she had to kill him while she was at it.

Crabb seemed to read her thoughts. "You've no escape," he said, and Parvati turned to look at him dead in the eye.

"W-why?"

"I placed a Silencing Charm on this _charming_ closet and magically locked the doors. No _Alohomora_ could unlock it," he said, starting to unbutton his shirt.

"Please. What did I do to you?!"

"...Nothing. You're beauty has had me intrigued for the past week," he said, his boxers as only clothing.

He moved close to her, and she just kept on pulling back. "Don't touch me!"

Next thing she knew, she had been made a sandwich with the wall and his sweaty fat body.

With all the strength she could muster, she slapped him...punched him...and scratched his face. She pulled his hair and ears so as to pull away his wet lips from her neck.

"Get off!" she cried, roaring with fear. "Get off me. Don't touch me! GET OFF!"

Crabb had somehow managed to get her robe off, and was feeling the newly exposed skin of her arms.

She kneed him. Or tried. But it was useless.

He moved to her shirt, quickly and roughly. Halfway unbuttoning the shirt, Parvati became frantic.

"DON'T TOUCH ME YOU BASTARD! GET OFF. GET OFF YOU STUPID BITCH!...DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T **TOUCH ME**!!"

Crabb was deaf to all her screaming and pleading. Impatient, he ripped the rest of her shirt open, the buttons falling to the floor.

Parvati dug her nails into his face and with all her might...and pulled down. She felt his skin under her nails, and saw the gashes and trickles of blood she had caused.

"Ahh, bitch!" hissed Crabb, but did not abandon what he was in the process of doing.

Somehow, being as strong as he was, he managed to snap the front of the bra apart. Parvati tried to cover herself with her arms, but he quickly caught her wrists and pinned them to the wall above her head.

She tried to kick him off, and during the attempt, his body made itself at home between her legs...disabling her legs of any use.

She heard the door knob turn.

"It's locked. Let's find another closet...shall we?" came a voice from the other side.

'_It's Malfoy.'_

"You know...we _could_ just go to my room. I have the dorm all to myself...and **no one** will interrupt us," came the female voice. A voice Parvati knew only too well.

'_It's Lavender! Lavender's with Malfoy!!"_

"LAVENDER! LAVENDER HELP ME! LAVENDER! MALFOY! I'M IN THE CLOSET! **HELP ME I'M GETTING–**"

Crabb placed his mouth over hers, a wet and slobbery kiss as he tried to shove his tongue in her mouth.

She clenched her jaw. If there was anything she would be able to prevent, it was his tongue entering her mouth. She would _bite_ _it_ _off_ if he did.

His hands let go of her wrists and started to feel on her breasts.

She felt herself punch him, scratch him, bite him angrily and fiercely, and try to kick him...but everything would simply bounce off him.

And when finally, the part she dreaded most came, she turned her head and looked away, loud sobs issuing from her lips.

* * *

**(A.N: Okay. This is another scene. A "safe" one. (Rebecca) This is where you could start reading again. Thank you.)**

Hermione studied herself in the full length mirror...after showering and in her pajamas.

She had been relieved to see that she had no visible bruise. At least not as far as she could see. Then again, they might take a while to show up.

She sighed and turned away from the mirror. Collecting her clothes and placing them in the hamper, she secretly reminded herself that she had to leave money in it for the House Elves, and then went to wash her face and brush her teeth.

Taking that shower had really helped her relax. After crying for nearly two hours, she decided to get herself together. And the only way to do that was by washing all her tears and troubles away.

She opened the door to the bathroom at the same time she flicked off the light. She was exhausted...it had to be at least three in the morning.

It was four.

"My Goodness. You're alive? I thought you died in there."

"Very funny, Harry. May I know what you're doing in my room at this hour of the day?"

Harry smiled, looking very childish since he was seated on Hermione's desk chair in a way in which where his back should have been, his chest was; his legs on each side of the chair.

"I was getting lonely," said Harry, in a quite perfect Irish accent.

"No come on, really," said Hermione, extending her wet towel oh her chair near the window.

"Oh alright. I just wanted to know who gave you the flower."

Hermione sighed. "Harry, I already told you. It's Terry. He gave me the flower and he put it in my hair," said Hermione, surprised that she didn't get any butterflies in her stomach at the thought.

"Well...I'm waiting for details," said Harry, as if explaining that one plus one equaled two.

"Oh Harry, I really don't want to talk about it right now. Or _anything _for that matter."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

'_Oh no. He knows. He knows and he's going to beat it out of me.'_

"Okay what happened?" asked Harry.

"Nothing happened Harry! I'm just tired and I don't feel like talking. In case you haven't noticed...it's _four_ in the morning!"

"Actually it's 4:03. But that's okay. You can't be _always_ right."

"Harry you're becoming very technical."

"Don't try and steer me away from the topic, Hermione. Now tell me...**what happened**?"

"By the way Harry...those dorm pants look really good on you. I'm pretty sure that if word got out that you were in _my_ room, at four in the morning..._four o' three..._in only pajama pants and your chest **absolutely** exposed...I'd be tarred and feathered by all the girls in Hogwarts."

Harry grew another three inches as he straightened up with pride. "Well, what can I say? Quidditch has done me some—hey! I know what you're trying to do! Get me all gassed up and feeling good so that you don't have to tell me what happened. Well let me tell you Hermione, it's not fair. Not fair at all. **I** tell you everything and **you** always make me beat it out of you."

"Harry it's not like that. I just...I'm not feeling really good right now," sighed Hermione, determined to not let those fears and the tears return to her.

She plopped down on her full-sized bed, arms extended outward. "Harry. Don't you sometimes wish that fear didn't exist?"

She felt her bed bounce heavily, common sense telling her that Harry had too, plopped down on the bed. "Yes and no."

"Elaborate please."

"Well. Fear prevents a lot of bad things to happen. Like war. And it causes a lot of good things too. Like caution. But sometimes, we're chased by fear so badly that people become insane. Cowards. And then they don't stand up for what they believe in."

Hermione looked up at Harry and smiled. "That's a very philosophical answer."

"Well you're not the only smart one here, Hermione Granger. You're just the most dedicated."

Harry sat up on the bed and looked down at Hermione. "And the most nerdy."

"Jerk."

"Dork"

"Moron."

"Bookworm."

"Idiot."

"Geek."

"Retard."

"Loser. Hey what happened to your face?"

Hermione's forehead wrinkled.

"Yea, right here," said Harry poking the bruise on Hermione's face.

"Ow!" said Hermione, and lightly slapped his hand away. She sat up and gingerly touched her cheek.

Hermione's eyes widened slightly as she realized that the bruise was right where Malfoy's thumb had been.

"Hermione are you alright? You've lost all of your color."

Hermione's heart started beating. She didn't want to tell Harry what happened for three main reasons.

One, she knew that if Harry knew what Malfoy had done to her, he'd march right up to him at breakfast and start a fight.

Two, she didn't want to relive what she was so desperately trying to forget.

And three, she didn't want to tell Harry all that had happened between her and Malfoy. From the train ride to the part where _he_ pulled away from the kiss she was so intently enjoying. Not to mention she didn't want Harry to picture her and Malfoy kissing.

"Hermione...**what happened**?"

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing."

"Then what's that bruise on your cheek?"

"It's a bruise."

"Why did you get that bruise?" asked Harry. Hermione felt a shiver run down her neck. Harry was so..._serious_. She was supposed to be the one with the powerful stare out of the two. Out of the _three_ if she included Ron.

"Harry it's nothing. **I** don't even know why or how I got that bruise. Maybe it's when one of those little brats ran into me. Yea. That must be it."

"Then please tell me how you got another one right here," said Harry, pointing to a light red bruise on her other cheek.

'_Damn! His grip was strong but enough to leave **two** bruises? ...Well yea...it hurt really bad. But...ugh it must be because I bruise so easily...'_

"I'm waiting for an answer, Hermione."

* * *

Lavender giggled as Malfoy kissed her neck.

It was a bit surprising that he were to find himself a lay so late a night...but he had. He had left his dorm due to the rhetorical arguing Blaise and Goyle were having, to get some food from the kitchens. And he found himself a little snack before he ever reached it.

'_What's her name again?'_

"Wait," said Lavender.

She had found him on her way out of Gryffindor and to the Prefect's bathroom. Everything was going according to plan. He started kissing her, and making suggestive comments...as did she. And then, after finding a locked closet that was of no use to them, came to her room and were now in her bathroom.

The bathroom that held a pool as good as the Prefect's bathroom.

Luckily no one was up at the time, and she was able to successfully sneak him to her room...to her bathroom...which had a tub just as good as the Prefect's.

"Maybe we should get to know each other more."

Draco removed his lips from her neck and looked at her, eyebrow raised. "What are you implying, Lana?"

"...it's Lavender," she said dreadfully. "Lavender Brown."

'..._shit...'_ thought Draco, but played it off as he chuckled, melting her knees.

He bent down and kissed her aggressively, Lavender apparently forgetting her train of thought.

As his tongue entered her mouth, she let out a pleasant moan and started to take off her own robe.

She threw it to the side, never separating her lips from Malfoy's. His hands started working on her shirt.

Again she pulled away. "Maybe we're going too fast."

Malfoy clenched his jaw. He _hated_ being interrupted.

"Explain yourself."

"Well. We don't really know each other and we should go out on dates and get acquainted more—."

Draco stepped back. "Pity babe. I don't do that 'getting to know you' crap. If you don't want to do this...I could easily just look for another girl to satisfy me. I mean, there are _plenty_ of participants."

Lavender's eyes widened in realization of what was at stake.

Draco gave a short, mocking laugh and turned to head for the door...slowly none the less.

'_Any time now. Five...four...'_

He felt a hand on his shoulder and stopped in his tracks. "I'm not looking for any commitments," he said over his shoulder.

"I...I know."

He smirked and turned around. To his surprise, she was completely topless.

'_When did she do **that**?' _thought Draco, biting his bottom lip as he fed his stare off her breasts.

"Very bold, Blue."

"...it's _Brown_."

"W_hatever"_ he said, stepping towards her.

He pulled her to him and kissed her aggressively once again. His hands slid down her back to her thighs and back up, under her skirt.

He was successfully capable of unbuttoning her skirt and letting it fall to the floor before...once again...she pulled away.

Draco let out an impatient breath, "Now what?"

"Nothing honey...I just thought we'd be more comfortable...in _there_," said Lavender, pointing to the tub/pool.

Draco smirked again, "But I'm all dressed," he said.

"Well," said Lavender, slowly putting her arms around his neck and lifting her left leg along his right thigh, bringing herself as close as possible. "I could take care of that," she whispered into his ear, biting it slightly.

Draco let out one of his sexy chuckles. "Well you better do it quick...I'm getting impatient with all these interruptions..."

* * *

"**Don't** tell anyone about this, understood?!" said Crabb, adjusting the belt on his pants.

Parvati lay crumpled to the very same spot against the wall. Her hair was a mess, sweat trickling in heavy droplets down the back of her neck.

Her face was tearstained and her makeup all ruined. Lipstick was smudged and mascara ran down her face in tears. She clutched her shirt closed, her bra now of no use. Blood was everywhere, his thrusts were so rough and harsh.

"Here," said Crabb, in the intent of giving Parvati her wand back.

Parvati didn't dare to stretch out any part of her body towards him, so eventually he threw it at her.

Still crying hysterically in her own silent way and unable to breathe very well, her hand shakily went to take hold of her wand, unable to think up of any hexes, charms, incantations or spells to use against him.

"Finish getting dressed and try and look more presentable will you? You never know if someone's on watch."

Parvati slowly and miserably stood up, and with help from the wall, was able to put on her skirt and button it. Her school shoes had never left her feet, so she was as ready as she could get.

"You were great," said Crabb, a triumphant smirk on his face. "I like it just like that, baby. Nice and rough."

"Bastard," whispered Parvati, tears flowing down her cheeks as she struggled to breathe. "Coward bitch."

In a flash, Vincent Crabb's flat palm made a harsh contact with Parvati's cheek, painfully forcing her head to her right.

A loud gasp issued from her lips, but she remained quiet thereafter, staring at the floor.

She heard him laugh victoriously, and was overwhelmed by a mixture of fear and immense anger.

"I'll be seeing you around, _Parvati_..."

She made no response, and bit her lip in order to try and regain her strength. '_It's about to be over.'_

Crabb made for the door, muttered something under his breath that she could not hear, and opened it. He stopped and turned around just before he left.

"Oh...and like I said...**no one** is to know about this. Unless...you wish for it to happen again."

Parvati's eyes widened and snapped her head to look at him. She shook her head vigorously, "I...I won't tell a soul."

"Good. That's what I like to hear," he said, and blew her a perverted kiss without the use of his hand. "I'll see you around."

He left.

After a while, Parvati found the courage to walk back to Gryffindor Common Room, dragging her feet with each step.

She cried the whole way through Gryffindor's dark halls, and after receiving a lecture from the portrait for being out so late at night, she was allowed in to the empty common room. She immediately made for the stairs and to her dormitory.

She tried to open the door, but it was locked.

'_She must be with **Malfoy**. Just when I needed her most...she's fucking senseless,' _She thought in misery.

Tears once again came with dominant force as she slid down the wall next to the door and waited for her best friend to be done doing her filth. She wasn't exactly going to interrupt.

She took in a big, quivery breath and pressed her lips together, opening them due to the force of emotion within her...her face twisting into a pure reflection of misery.

* * *

"You're starting to annoy me. It's nothing to worry about, and I don't want to repeat myself."

"Hermione. I'm not leaving unless you tell me who gave you that bruise. Was it Boot? Was it Millicent Bulstrode?"

"Harry stop! I already told you that I fell down the stairs!" said Hermione, a very, almost too long a pause following.

"Wow," said Harry, his face twitching as if wanting to smile. "You're a **terrible** liar."

"What? How can you say that! I'm not lying!"

"You told me a little bratty kid had run into you! And now you're saying that you fell down the stairs. Hermione...I know you. I know when you lie...I know when you're mad...actually nobody can miss that emotion coming from you, and I know what you're thinking."

"No you don't!"

"Yes I do."

"Fine...what am I thinking _right now_," asked Hermione testily, her head slightly cocked to the side in challenge.

Harry's eyes narrowed, as if mentally struggling to use some X-ray vision of some kind.

"You're wondering if I can really read your mind," he said ceremoniously, a giant smile on his face.

"Oh brilliant. Absolutely excellent Mr. Potter. The greatest Seer of her time could not have done so wonderfully herself."

His chest swelled up, "I'm glad you noticed, Ms. Granger."

"Oh yes. Please do it again! It would be of great pleasure to us all."

"If you insist," said Harry, once again returning to the narrowing of the eyes whose stare was directed at her forehead.

"You're thinking...I'm being a moronic ass right now."

"Okay that was freaky," said Hermione, who in fact, had been thinking those exact words.

"Hey!" said Harry straightening up. "I was just joking!"

"I wasn't," said Hermione snobbishly, sliding off the bed. She walked to the bathroom, and Harry followed.

"Don't even try it," he said, smiling knowingly as he leaned against the door frame with the support from the bottom half of his arm.

"What? I can't brush my teeth?!"

"Sure you can. But why would you do it twice in less than an hour?"

Hermione smiled. "I forgot you were here the whole time. You must have been really bored."

"Well Catherine gave me a good blow and then left...what? Why are you looking at me like that? She did a pretty good job!" said Harry in her defense.

"Harry...you. Are. _Sickening_."

"Oh come on! Like no one's ever done it before. I'm not the only guy that it's been done to. And she's not the only girl that does it."

"Are you two even dating?!" asked Hermione incredulously.

Turning her back to the sink she placed her palms firmly on the counter, and hopped backwards, careful not to fall in as she happily found a new chair.

"...no. But it doesn't matter, right? I mean...what if we don't like each other? What if I don't think she's cool like you and Ginny? What if she's not good in bed like Padma Patil? What if—"

"Whoa. Hold it right there, Harry. Did you just say _Padma_ Patil?"

Harry seemed to hesitate. "Would you believe me if I said no?"

"Harry!" yelled Hermione, looking extremely scandalized. "You dated her **sister** before she ran off to Malfoy!"

Harry stood up straight, a sudden urge to explain a misunderstanding. "Ey! She did **not** _run off_ to Malfoy! I left her...Malfoy was rebound. Remember that."

"Harry that's the—"

"And I didn't sleep with her anyways. She was sort of holding a grudge, really. You know, since I took her to the Yule Ball in our fourth year and didn't dance much with her. Yea, she's a bit resentful that one," added Harry thoughtfully.

Hermione didn't drop it. "That doesn't _matter_ Harry! You don't go out with one person...dump her and then go out with her **sister**. What's **wrong** with you?!"

"Look...just because **you** haven't gotten your _groove on_ yet, doesn't mean everyone's like that too."

Hermione stared at him. "Is that what you think? You think I haven't gotten my _groove on_ yet?"

Harry laughed heartily. "Oh no. I'm sorry. I forgot about **Prince Charming**. The one that puts a flower in your hair and acts of the Medieval Times."

"Keep laughing Potter. You don't know half of it," Hermione said, earning a skeptical look from Harry.

She continued. "What makes you think I was talking about Terry and putting flowers in my hair?"

Harry's mouth slightly opened. "If not Terry, then who? And...just **how** far have you gone with this mystery guy?"

Hermione smiled mischievously. "More than you'll expect, Harry. More than you'll expect."

Harry crossed his arms indignantly. "How come you haven't told me before?"

"Because I don't have to," said Hermione cheerfully, hopping off the sink and pushing past a very shocked Harry.

"Okay...you **don't** tell me everything. I know that. But that doesn't mean that you keep big things like **this** away!"

"Oh you are highly mistaken sweetie cause I do exactly just that," she said, sitting on the bed.

And maybe it was the first time she realized how much muscle Harry really had...and of course...had to comment.

"Wow Harry. You're very muscular. All jokes aside I think I finally see something attractive in you."

Harry's jaw dropped slightly. "**Excuse** **me**?!"

"What? It was a complement!"

"No...the last part," said Harry. His voice suddenly reached an oddly high note, trying to imitate a female voice. "_I finally see something attractive in you_. What kind of _bullshit_ is that?!" asked Harry.

Hermione laughed. "Harry these girls have gassed up your head too much. So what? I don't see you like **that**."

"I know you don't! And I don't see **you **like that. But you don't have to put it **that** way! There are _other_ things besides my outstandingly huge but not disgustingly huge muscles that are attractive!"

"Okay, besides that and your eyes...what's 'attractive'?"

"My...um...height. My face. My dick."

"Harry! **Ew**! That is something I **never** want to see!"

Harry looked just as shaken. "I never **want** you to see it!"

"Well good...cause that would either mean I burst in on you taking a shower, or we got seriously drugged and drunk and had to have...well..."

"Sex," said Harry simply. Hermione blushed and shifted uncomfortably. "Oh don't give me that!" said Harry. "You're seventeen for God's sake! Don't tell me you've never **heard** someone say the word before. You see...this is exactly the type of behavior that makes me think you've never even had your fifth kiss."

Hermione made a face at Harry, and started to count off her kisses with her fingers.

'_Who was my first kiss?'_ thought Hermione, a twinge of guilt as she realized it was her best friend's worst enemy. '_...Malfoy..._

'_Okay, Malfoy on the train, Malfoy when I met up with him in front of Myrtle's bathroom, and later when he helped me escape...Filch was it? Then...**in the secret room where we almost...**'_

Hermione ushered the memory away and continued counting the make-out sessions with Malfoy using her fingers.

'_In the hallway just now. I have a feeling I left out a lot...oh yea! When he took me away from Harry the day I got here! Wait...was that the same day he told me to meet up with him in front of Myrtle's bathroom? Ugh! I lost count!' _thought Hermione, her other hand now also in use.

"Well Harry, looks like I **have** had my fifth kiss," said Hermione. "But I think I might have left some out and recounted one," she added as an afterthought.

Harry stared at her fingers.

"What?" asked Hermione.

"Hermione...those are a lot of fingers you have there."

"Harry we all have ten."

"No...you have six fingers up right now. You've kissed six times?!"

"No. I'm not sure if it should be more fingers...I'm pretty sure I left out a lot."

"How come I've never met these boyfriends?"

"Because there weren't any," said Hermione, blushing.

"Aha! So you **do** do naughty things without being in a relationship!" exclaimed Harry, his arms wide open in triumph. "I knew it!"

"Harry I'm lying."

He put his arms down in, his happy mood now deflated. "Well thanks."

Hermione yawned deeply and looked at the clock. "Harry it's 5:30. We have to get up in two hours and I'm exhausted."

"You kicking me out?" asked Harry in mock offense.

"Yes!" said Hermione, getting up from the bed and shoving Harry out of the room.

"How rude!" said Harry as the door was closed and locked in his face.

Which reminded Hermione that her room had _already_ been locked. She unlocked and opened the door. "Harry!" She called after him.

He turned around, halfway down the stairs. "What?"

"How did you get into my room?"

"_Alohomora," _he said simply, and with a short wave continued to his room.

Hermione smiled. Without knowing it, he had brightened her day...her night...whatever. Point was that she knew, that for Harry she would risk it all. You don't always get a loyal friend like him, and the last thing she wanted was to loose him.

_Good thing he forgot about the bruises.

* * *

_

Two weeks later, September now ending, Draco Malfoy was in his dormitory, alone and in peace, having a wonderful chat with his mother's head that was in the fireplace.

Draco was laying flat on his stomach, supporting his head with his hands.

He gave a heavy sigh, though it was very difficult to do so. "Yes mum, I know. I have to study harder."

"Oh honey, it's not like you don't study hard enough. You don't _always_ have to get the highest marks," said Narcissa Malfoy to her son sympathetically.

"Mum that's the thing. I **never** do. Gran—"

"Yes darling, I know. _Granger always beats you, the nerdy little bookworm_."

"Yes, and Potter—"

"And _**Potter** is only better than you because he's Dumbledore's favorite boy. _Is that not correct?"

Draco smiled. "Yes mother. You know me far too well."

"I rather know my son far too well than far too little."

"Perhaps I should stop talking to you so much. That way I can actually shock you when I have news," said Draco playfully, his hands away from his face and now on lying nonchalantly on the floor as his arms supported him.

"Even if you tried, Draco. You know you'd make an exception at the very next dilemma that came across your way."

"Dilemma?! I'd crack at the next weekend!"

His mother laughed. He loved to see her laugh. She was beautiful when she did.

"Yes I suppose you would. So tell me about this Lana girl you..._kissed_," she said, absolutely positive that what her son had told her was an absolute and extreme understatement.

"Oh...yea...about that."

"Honey I already know you. I know you went **much** further than a _kiss_. Honestly I don't know why you even try."

Draco smiled, "yea I guess you're right. But really...I don't want to get into the details."

Narcissa made a face. "Uh...neither do I."

Draco laughed. "Well for one...I kept forgetting her name. Even when I came to my...you know—"

"Yes I know, darling."

"Well...I screamed the wrong name out," said Draco, biting the side of his bottom lip as his eyes widened with a '_I-was-lucky-to-get-out-of-that-one'_ look in them.

Narcissa, her jaw hanging and somehow smiling at the same time, also widened her eyes. "Oh my Lord! Well...what did you say?!"

"I called her Lila Brunette."

"Oh dear and what's her name?"

"Lana something. Hang on she wrote it down on a piece of paper for me."

"She what?!" asked Narcissa in surprise as she watched her son rise to his knees and search his pockets.

"Oh here it is," said Draco, going back to his previous position.

"I say, that has to be one really, really desperate girl."

"..._Lavender Brown_...okay mum I wasn't even close."

Narcissa just looked at her son, her stare almost sorrowful.

"What's wrong?" asked Draco.

"Oh honey, I was just...worrying about you."

"Why?" asked Draco, as if she had just told him that he needed to wear a diaper for a day.

"Because, well. At this rate you'll never find the one you love, dear. You'll never give yourself the chance to meet a nice young witch to marry and to—"

"_Mu-um_! We've been through this before, I'm **not** getting married. Not to Pansy—"

"Lord heavens no!"

"—not to Bulstrode—"

"Oh dear."

"—not to anyone," said Draco folding the paper into smaller and smaller squares.

"But honey...you're the last of the Malfoys! It would be a real shame if the Malfoys were to just disappear out of the face of the earth."

"Then have another kid, mum. It's not that difficult."

"At my age you better believe it is."

"But there's no one left in the world that would fully satisfy me."

"You know, before your grandmother passed away, she told me that your father said the exact same thing."

"Mother, please! Don't compare me to...to..._him_."

"Draco you can't be mad at your father forever," she said sternly. "He did what he thought was best for all of us."

"He did no such thing, mum! I'd have rather taken the consequences—"

"Draco you haven't the slightest idea of what the consequences could have been. Now you're father's been in jail for almost two years, and he hasn't received one call or letter or visit from you. You think that fair Draco? After all that he did for you?"

"For me of for the Dark Lord?"" whispered Draco, his eyes never meeting that of his mothers.

"Draco...Draco look at me."

He slowly looked up, his eyes stubborn as usual.

"He made a mistake," she continued. "And he's paying for it."

"Not just him mum. We all are."

"He is aware of that, honey. It torments him day in and day out. But what more do you want from him? He's already giving seven years of his life, does he need to give his son as well?"

"Mother he is a failure. To me."

"One is only a failure when one has given up. He has never given up on you _or_ me. Draco he doesn't deserve your coldness."

"Mother," said Draco, clenching his jaw so that he didn't lash out at her piece of his mind. "He traded in twenty years for a life-long—"

"I know. And I also know that if it weren't for that, you would be visiting him as many times you could."

Draco didn't answer to that, and after a long silence, he looked at her straight in the eye.

"There's one thing I **do** want from my father though."

Narcissa looked at him surprised. "What's that?"

"His luck in finding a wife as perfect as you mum."

She smiled sweetly. "You're very kind."

"No mum. If I could find someone who cares for me like you do...without the mother-son relation...and is beautiful, and is smart, and educated, and loyal, and kind-hearted, thus being a good mother to my children, and of course...**pureblood**...I would marry her in a second."

"Well then good luck with that one honey. Now, sorry to cut our chat so short but I really must be off. I have a meeting with sweet Dolores Umbridge for brunch. Wish me luck. She's kind...but her laugh annoys the hell out of me."

Draco laughed and blew his mother a kiss. "Okay mum. Talk to you later."

"Bye honey...good thing your father got you this fireplace, no?...I know, I know..._bye_." said Narcissa, and as quickly as that she had disappeared.

'_Better fetch some breakfast before it's all gone...and have another chat with Granger...'_

* * *

**A.N: **Okay you CANNOT say that I slacked off in this one. And you guys...the reviews were great!! As you can see...I was MOTIVATED! AND FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER...IT'S HERE!

**The turning point of the story is here!!!**

I let you in on Draco's home-life and relationship with his mom a little to show he has a heart...for ONE person...

Oh and in one of the reviews, someone asked how Malfoy would be able to take away house points if Harry was Headboy. Well...he's Prefect. And he could easily tell on a little Gryffindor to Professor Snape and thus take away house points. He's a rotten little snitch, that sexy Malfoy.

Okay...now...the next chapter has to be the best yet. The most emotional...the most...SERIOUS. So **p-l-e-a-s-e R-E-V-I-E-W!!!!! **

**I WOULD LIKE TO GET ATLEAST 40.**

**I _LOVE_ YOU ALL! YOU'RE ALL _THE BEST_!!!! And REVIEW!!!**


	14. A Change In Course

**Chapter Fourteen: A New Beginning **

"What do you reckon is wrong with Parvati?" whispered Ron in Hermione's ear.

"I haven't a clue," she whispered back, taking a small bite of toast.

"She's been like that for _weeks_. All dull and...**quiet**," said Ron, taking a forkful of rice and eggs, looking intently at Parvati who was right in front of him.

"Well wasn't it you that always complained that she never shut up? That all her talk was gossip and foul wording of others?"

"Yea but...I mean I'm not complaining...but I think I'd rather her loud than quiet and mysterious. I mean look at her, she's miserable!"

"Ron quiet down!" whispered Hermione loudly, using a book that was on her lap and opened it in order to hide her face. "She's right in front of you."

"You're not doing any better...the book is upside down. And it's not like she shows any sign of life. I'm asking her a question and she stares off into nowhere."

"Well how about you let her stare off into nowhere in peace?" asked Hermione, giving him a pointed look and turning her book to proper position.

Ron made a face at her. "You kill ever intent of conversation don't you?"

"I try," she said slyly. "But I never succeed."

"Well here's something that might get you talking."

"What?" asked Hermione, paying only half attention to what he was saying while she read '_Hippogriffs: A myth unknown._'

"It's about Harry. He's—uh—getting _letters_ again."

Hermione snapped the book shut, Ron jumping at the sudden movement. "What do you **mean** he's getting _letters_ again?"

Ron looked around him and swallowed the chunk of bacon he had shoved into his mouth. "You know...**letters**" he said, staring into her eyes as if it were some secret code.

"And what's bad about Harry getting letters? It would be sad if he _didn't_ get any!"

"Hermioneee! They're not just **any** letters. They're...they're," Ron looked around again. "They're _letters!_" he whispered.

"Ron I think we've established that."

"No!" said Ron, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice. "They're _threats_!" he whispered.

But it was too loud.

"They're what?" asked Hermione. "I couldn't hear you. Incase you took no notice we're at breakfast and it's getting a bit loud in here."

"I said they're threats!" said Ron in a louder whisper.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Threats?!" she whispered loudly. "But...from who?"

"Who do you think they're from, Hermione? Death Eaters!"

"Why?"

"Oh I don't know, Hermione. Maybe it's because Harry's Potter. And Potter is The-Boy-That-Lived. And the Boy-That-Lived is He-who-Lived. And He-Who-Lived is the reason why He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was defeated seventeen years ago and has since then had a..._grudge_...against Harry. Who's Potter. Who's the Boy-That-Li—."

"Alright I got it!" said Hermione. "He's in danger."

"Not really," said Ron. "He's just getting letters. Oh **great**...look who just got in for a bit o' breakfast," said Ron, a hideous scowl on his face as he looked at Malfoy in disgust.

"And look who's accompanying him," said Hermione, with fake cheerfulness.

"Traitor," said Ron, taking another forkful of rice and eggs.

Parvati turned around to look at her best fried stroll in with Malfoy, her arm linked with his...though he looked a bit annoyed by it.

"We all know what happened between **them**," said Seamus to half the table of Gryffindors. "I wouldn't give them a month."

"A month?!" exclaimed Dean, looking at his surrounding friends. "They've been dating _two weeks._ That's a record for our rival, but I doubt that that means he'll stay with her a whole month!"

Hermione sighed. "Maybe he's actually serious about her," she said, though unable to stop the sick turning within her stomach.

Dean, Seamus, and Colin Creevey all snorted; while Ron choked on his food.

"Get real," said Colin. "Malfoy isn't serious about any girl."

"Yea," said Dean. "She's just a really, really, _really_ good lay," he finished, winking at Hermione and giving a high-five to Seamus.

"Not to mention she's got the Playboy body we all—ouch! What was that for?!" yelled Ron, sending a furious glare at Hermione after she had pinched his arm.

"I doubt that **that** talk is going to please your mother, Ronald Weasley. And I really don't want to hear about _any_ Playboy body of _any_ sort while I'm eating."

Ron wrinkled his nose in annoyance, but Dean continued the conversation.

"No, really mates. I don't give them the end of this week. Probably not the end of this day!"

"I think he'll have her one last time then dump her," said Colin, smiling widely as he savagely bit his toast.

"He's right," said Seamus. "Haven't you seen the way he's acted with her?"

"I know!" exclaimed Ginny, who out of nowhere joined the conversation. "She's been clinging to him and he's been sneering at her. Like she's some annoying bug or something!"

"_Exactly_. But _something_ must have him attached to her," said Seamus.

"Malfoy's not _attached_. He's just taking glory out of her body. _She's_ attached to him," said Dean.

"I just don't want to believe that a Gryffindor has fallen for his pathetic moves..._again_," said Collin, whispering his last word.

All eyes moved to Parvati, but she seemed to hardly notice.

"Just look at her!" said Ron, turning the conversation back to Lavender and Malfoy. "She's sitting there, completely ignored. You'd think he'd offer her food."

"I almost feel sorry for her," said Ginny. "She could get any guy she wants and she goes for the _one_ guy that won't appreciate her."

"That's true," said Seamus. "I was ready to propose marriage when we were going out. But she broke my heart...just like she broke so many others. In a way I'm glad she's going out with Malfoy. It's time she pay for what she did."

"I agree on that!" said Dean, lifting his goblet and putting it back down.

Ginny, Seamus, Ron, Collin, and even Neville who had just averted his attention to the conversation all lifted their goblets as well. The conversation was dropped.

"Did anyone see where Harry went off to?" asked Ginny, spreading marmalade on her toast.

"I haven't a clue. Hermione?" asked Ron, turning to her.

"Don't look at me," said Hermione defensively. "I haven't any idea where that boy is half the time."

"OH come on! You share the same Common Room for heaven's sake!"

"We've _always_ shared the same Common Room, Ron."

"Yes. But there are only two rooms there. You two must connect a lot, I assume. Having no one _else_ to talk to."

Collin snorted the loudest while Dean and Seamus tried to prevent their smiles by stuffing their mouths with more food.

"What's so funny?" asked Ron.

Hermione was just as confused. "Yea, why all the snickering and red faces?"

Ginny, who hadn't snorted or bothered to hide her smile, answered her with a question of her own. "Hermione, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," said Hermione, putting her fork down and reaching over for her drink.

"May I ask you just **what** it is you and Harry do in that Common Room?"

Hermione choked on her drink, and Ron tried to help her by slamming his hand on her back repeatedly.

"Are you alright Hermione?"

"She will once you stop beating her!" said Seamus.

"Oh" said Ron, and gave an apologetic look at Hermione. "I'm terribly sorry."

"It's—alright, Ron" said Hermione.

"So are you going to answer us?" asked Ginny.

"If you think that we're...doing..._things_ that are beyond the lines of **friendship**, you're absolutely **_wrong_**. If anything we play fight—"

"Under the covers?" said Dean, and everybody laughed.

"No! When we first got there we fought for the rooms. Everything else is basically doing homework at separate ends of the Common Room."

She didn't think it necessary to tell them that Harry had been in her room and she in his late nights, early mornings either arguing, discussing things, giving out lectures, trying to pry secrets out of each other...the list could go on. But they had never even _flirted_ with each other. The thought in itself was gross.

"Alright Hermione. Calm down. No need to get all worked up we were just playing around."

"Good. Because I've eaten all I could eat and I don't want to leave you with any doubts."

"It's alright Hermione," said Collin. "We know there's nothing between you and Harry. **He's** got Catherine Zunille."

"And **I** have to go," said Hermione, swinging her purse-like book bag over her head and onto her shoulder.

"Where you headed?" asked Neville.

"It's my first class of Arithmacy. I wasn't able to take it last semester, so I'm a bit excited...and behind," she added, a bit deflated.

"Oh alright then. Good luck."

"Thanks. Bye guys," said Hermione, and gave a short wave to everyone.

* * *

'_She's leaving,'_ thought Draco, taking an elegant drink out of his Pumpkin juice as his eyes followed her.

"Draco," whispered Lavender. "I feel out of place here."

"Then leave," he said harshly, eyes still on Hermione as she talked to Neville. "Nobody's keeping you here."

Lavender gave a weak smile as she looked around her, wondering if anyone had heard. The Slytherin girls, specifically Pansy Parkinson, kept sending her death glares and mocking smiles of welcome.

"You don't have to speak so rudely to me," she said quietly.

Draco slowly and carefully put his silver goblet down. "I do whatever the fuck I want to do."

"I-I know. It's just that I was sort of hoping—"

"Listen Brown, I don't care whatsoever what you were _sort of hoping_ for. Now if you don't mind shutting that mouth of yours and letting me concentrate on more important things...like that wall over there...I'd greatly appreciate it."

Lavender blushed a deep crimson, looking down at her hands.

Draco saw Hermione start walking away from Neville, eyes on her feet.

'_Oh here comes Pothead_' thought Draco, as he caught sight of Harry walking towards Hermione with a big smile on his face.

'_Why is he so fucking happy? Oh great...he's caught up to Granger and now **she's** so fucking happy. What **is it** with them two? One look at each other and they go into hysterics.'_

Draco pushed his plate away, he didn't feel like eating anymore.

"What's up with _you_, mate?" asked Blaise, who sitting in front of him decided to turn around and follow Draco's stare.

"Ah," said Blaise knowingly, but didn't dare say anymore, giving a fleeting look to Lavender.

Draco sent him a death glare, "Not another word Zabini."

Blaise clenched his jaw. "Don't try and tell me what to do, Malfoy."

Draco ignored him and looked back at Hermione, whom was walking backwards and talking to Harry at the same time.

'_Lord say good-bye already!' _thought Draco, rolling his eyes when Hermione finally turned around.

'..._Hey she walks pretty fast. How can she know where's she's going without looking up?—Oh I see,' _thought Draco, flinching when he saw Hermione smash right into a Gryffindor that was getting up from the table. '_She doesn't_.'

All attention was on Hermione, whose books were splattered everywhere and was seated quite uncomfortably on the floor.

Snickers and snorts all came from the Slytherin table, small smiles from the Hufflepuffs, short laughs from the Ravenclaws and concern from the Gryffindors.

Except for Harry Potter, who was laughing so soundlessly hard his face was a dark red.

Lavender gave a gentle laugh. "Hermione's really smart but she could be _really_ clumsy sometimes."

It had to be the first interesting thing that had come out of her mouth since they were dating.

"R_eally?"_ said Draco, and Lavender nodded vigorously, happy to finally get his attention.

"Yea. She always forgets her shoes."

Draco tried to fight the smile that wanted to spread across his face...and succeeded. "She forgets her _shoes_?"

"All the time. And though she's all serious and nerdy when it comes to studying and homework, she could be really hilarious by just being herself. Of course it's not intended on her part...like I said, she's a clumsy bitch ."

Draco turned to look back at Hermione, who was being helped up by the Gryffindor she had bumped into, while somebody else picked up her books for her.

And quickly once again, she gathered them into her purse-like book bag, thanked the two that helped her, and hurried out of the Great Hall.

"You know what **I** heard?" said Theodore Nott, grinning widely as he spoke to no one in general.

"What? What did the **Great Nott** hear?" asked Blaise.

"I heard that little mudblood Granger has a _boyfriend_," he said, wiggling his eyebrows excitedly. "So what about it, boys? Have the urge for teasing today?"

"Who's the loser?" asked Blaise.

"Some kid in Ravenclaw," he shrugged. "But even if it's **not** true...it's ammunition against Gryffindor."

"Doubt it. Nothing penetrates that girl," said Goyle.

Nott looked a bit deflated. "True. Very true."

"But we could tease the guy that's dating her for not being able to get any better!" said Pansy in an excited squeal.

"Works for me," said Nott, growing another three inches in excitement.

"It won't penetrate him either."

"Why not, Crabbe?"

"Cause I've been keeping an eye on her...and the guy's that Boot geek from Ravenclaw. Both geeks, both losers...they're pretty much perfect for each other if you ask me."

"But nobody **did** ask you, Crabbe," said Draco, an eyebrow raised in challenge.

Crabbe murmured an apology and turned down to his food; Blaise couldn't prevent the knowing smirk that grew on his face.

"What's so funny, Zabini?" whispered Malfoy, somewhat threateningly.

"Nothing. Just the fact that you so perfectly try and stray away from all conversation that involves you-know-who for the past week or two. And I **don't** mean the Dark Lord."

"I'm not straying from anything, Zabini. I just don't like it when people talk of Gryffindors as if we have nothing better to do than make their lives miserable. Don't get me wrong, we should still do it, but not so often. Let's leave that for the younger Slytherins."

Lavender gave a sophisticated cough, as if to remind them that **she** was a Gryffindor.

Draco sighed in annoyance. '_It's a good thing she's better than normal in bed, or I would have never gone out with her to begin with._'

* * *

Hermione sunk in her chair and tried to hide from all eyes.

It was her second class of the day, and Harry was once again making a fool of himself. But for the first time it was in a class. When did he change from quiet to stupidly loud?

"But Mr. Potter, tests _are_ necessary. That's how us teachers—"

"Ruin our lives! Come on. It's just stress over stress over **stress**. For you teachers as well."

"Mr. Potter I don't—"

"I know that when you have all those tests to grade...it's work. Read and _reread_ questions and answers. And then there's all the _partial credit_. Wouldn't life be easier if there were no tests to begin with?" asked Harry, relaxing back on his chair...hands behind his head.

"Harry," whispered Hermione. "Can you drop it and let Professor Flitwick finish his lesson?!"

"Hermione, I'm fighting for everyone in the class. You know that."

"**Mr. Potter**, with all due respect...I do say that you must oblige to the rules that apply to all pupil."

"But if there are **no tests**, the _pupil_ could have space in his or her brain to _recognize_ the rules."

"Well if you feel less capable of certain abilities, perhaps your level and career should be changed to fit it, what do you say Mr. Potter?"

"I say that you're a bit cranky, Professor Flitwick," said Harry, his weight forward onto his desk as he pointed to the small-statured man like he was offering him the best business deal out on the market.

"Mr. Potter, I'll have less of that finger, if it's all the same to you."

"Oh," said Harry, flashing him an innocent smile. "Sorry Professor. But back to more important things...what about it? No tests from now till the end of the year. Benefits for both Professor and Pupil!"

"I don't remember when you became such a nuisance, Mr. Potter. And you and I **both** know what I must do to students that are of nuisance to me."

"What's that, Professor?" asked Harry, once again his hands behind his head as he leaned his chair backwards, a wide grin on his face.

"Detention, Mr. Potter."

Harry's chair fell to back to all fours, his feet stomping the floor and his hands flying to the desk to keep his balance, and to relieve a bit of his shock.

"Detention?! But—"

"From 5:30 in the evening to 7:00. You shall help me with all these **tests** of mine that I must grade. And—"

"But that's not fair! I just **complained** to you about tests! This is supposed to _help_ me understand your point of view?!"

"This is supposed to teach you to keep quiet in my class."

"Well in case you haven't noticed...it's given me a lot to talk about."

"**Mr. Potter**! _One_ more word and I shall be forced to increase the detention!"

"You mean you're really giving it to me?!"

"**Yes **I'm really giving it to you!"

"But," said Harry, misery dawning on his expressions. "that's "

"Mr. Potter, I am a man of age...I do not **care** what is _cool_ and what is _not_."

"I could teach you!" said Harry cheerfully.

"9:30!"

"Whoa! That's a whole two hours and a **half** you just increased there! I offered you _help_ and you **increase** my detention?!"

"11:00!" squeaked Professor Flitwick.

"WHAT?! **Are you out of your _mind?_**"

There was a murmur of shock at his last statement.

"**Not** that I'm saying you're _insane_ Professor, it's just—"

"**Harry Potter**, my office everyday for the rest of this week...5:30 to 11:00 o'clock! And **not another word!**"

Harry slumped into his chair and weakly held his quill in his hand, twirling it in his fingers.

"I hope you learned your lesson, Harry. Frankly, I'm quite surprised that you chose such a pathetic topic to get a week's worth of detention. And this time, the excuse that the teacher hates you is not in play," whispered Hermione.

"Why thank you Hermione Granger, for answering my question of what you thought about this topic."

"But you didn't ask—"

"Exactly."

* * *

"How was Arithmacy?" asked Ron, sitting next to Hermione in the Great Hall at lunch.

"Difficult. You'd think they'd review a bit of what they learned the beginning of the year."

"How come you didn't start then?" asked Ron, his mouth slowly filling up with potatoes.

"I had no time. Between the regular Defense Against the Dark Darts, Potions, History of Magic, Charms, Care of Magical Creatures, Transfiguration, Herbology, Astronomy, my extra Ancient Runes and N.E.W.T's extra practice, I wasn't able to manage."

"But I thought Arithmacy was your favorite subject?"

"Yes but I heard that the first semester was a basic review. It **obviously** wasn't though."

"This semester went by pretty fast. How come we haven't gotten our marks?"

"Oh Ron! So I used the **wrong** term, shoot me!" said Hermione moodily, shoving jam onto her bread. "I meant the unit in Arithmacy. I signed up to start Arithmacy after the review. I just didn't want to explain all that in order to save time, but nothing goes past you, now does it?!"

"What's up with **you**?" asked Ron, all his food relaxing on the side of his mouth, causing a big bulge on his left cheek.

Hermione threw her fork and knife , causing a harsh clatter under her hands.

"**Nothing** is wrong with me, Ron. Can I eat now?! Or do you have any other questions for me?"

"I just wanted to know what was wrong with you. You seem pretty upset." said Ron.

"Wouldn't **you** be upset if you were prevented from eating because of _stupid _questions asked?"

"Yea, I guess. But I'd be eating and answering at the same time."

"Well **some** of us have manners!" answered Hermione angrily.

There was a moment of silence where Ron chewed on his food and Hermione carefully picked up her utensils and slowly began cutting her steak.

"Okay," said Ron. "What did Harry do **now**?"

Hermione, whose fork was halfway to her mouth, stopped dead and slowly put her fork down, trying to gain control over her temper.

"What makes you think that he did anything to begin with?"

"Because you always get like that when either one of us did something wrong, a test is coming up, or there is an unanswered questioning your head. I don't think **I** did anything wrong, and it's too early in the year to have an unanswered question in your head. So it's either Harry or PMS."

"Fine. Harry got detention."

"From who?"

"Professor Flitwick. Which reminds me...where were you during Charms?"

He shrugged. "Different schedule. I have Charms on Wednesdays and Thursdays. So Harry got detention?"

"Yes!" answered Hermione. She picked up her already filled fork and made for her mouth.

"For what?" asked Ron.

Once again, fork halfway to her mouth Hermione stopped dead.

"Because he was arguing his view that tests were not necessary. Can I—"

"Really?!" asked Ron, his mouth full of steak and rice. "Dat's briyiant!"

Hermione turned in disgust. "Ron don't talk with your mouth full."

"Hey, how's it going mates?" asked Harry excitedly, taking a seat next to Hermione.

Ron gave an insecure shrug and Hermione murmured an angry 'fine.'

"Mmm. This food looks great!" said Harry, a horrible try to lighten up the mood.

"Don't you think I know that?!" asked Hermione. "But **some people** won't shut up so that a person could take her first bite!" she yelled, glaring at Ron and unaware that she had attracted attention from nearly the whole table.

"Um...Hermione? Don't you think you're being a bit over—" began Ron, but Harry had begun a series of obvious and fake coughs, giving Ron a meaningful look.

Ron's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Are you alright Harry?" asked Ron, and Hermione turned to look at him as well.

Under the pressure of Hermione's fierce observation, Harry was no longer able to **try** and tell Ron that it wasn't wise to finish his sentence.

"Erm," he coughed. "No, it's nothing. Choked on a bit of..." and since he hadn't started to eat yet, said "saliva. But I'm good now," he nodded. "I'm real good."

Hermione turned back to Ron. "You were saying?"

Ron seemed to snap out of a daze and gave a slight jump. "Oh yeah! I was saying that don't you think you're being—"

Harry started to cough loudly again, wondering at the same time if Ron would ever get a clue.

"Are you alright, Harry?" asked Hermione.

Still, no possibility of sending the message. "No-I mean yes! I'm...I'm fine. I just...had an itch in my throat."

"Do you want to go to Madame Pomfrey? To see if she's got some antidote to get rid of it?"

"No...no that's quite alright. Thanks."

"Well as I was saying before," began Ron, and Hermione turned around to look at him; her expression going from concern to indignation. "Don't you think you were over—."

Harry coughed as hard as ever. It sounded as if his throat were about to jump out of his mouth and as if he were about to die. In other words, he sounded like an old and sick grandmother who still believes she's capable of doing her own chores without help.

"Harry!" asked Hermione, absolutely convinced that he had the intention of being rude. "**What** is wrong with you?!"

"N-nothing, Hermione I was just—"

"Drink something then!"

"Yea. I-I'll do that," said Harry, reaching over for his pumpkin juice and gulping half of it down.

She gave him one last look and turned back to Ron. "You were saying?"

"Oh yea. Wait...what was it again?"

"If didn't I think I was..."

"Oh yes! A bit—"

Ron stopped talking as Harry desperately made slashing movements with his hand across his throat.

Hermione followed Ron's stare and turned around. Harry quickly pretended to scratch his shoulder.

Confused she turned around and back to Ron. "In one quick word, I was acting a bit—"

Ron, who was still looking at Harry for a clue, did not answer.

"Ron...Ron!"

"Yes, Hermione?" he asked, trying to look as innocent as possible.

"I was acting a bit—"

Ron gulped and opened his mouth, but closed it again.

_If only he knew what Harry was trying to say._

"Um..." said Ron.

And as quick and as loud as Harry, he began a fit of obvious fake coughs. This only angered her more.

"You know what? Forget it. Just simply **forget** **it**. I'm too hungry and too tired. Now if you two would just shut up and let me eat..." said Hermione, quickly placing the fork full of steak in her mouth.

And in the process of swallowing that piece of meat, the bell rang.

* * *

"But **I **didn't get to eat anything either Hermione. And I'm a guy!"

"Oh don't start that with me, Harry. I hardly had anything to eat this morning!" said Hermione while she, Harry and Ron were making their way through the grounds and to Care of Magical Creatures.

"But look here, Hermione," began Ron. "Don't you think that a guy, being bigger _by nature_ than girl, is in more need of eating?"

"In that case, Ron, don't you think that a girl should have more attention and have an easier life than a man? I mean...she _is_more delicate."

"No."

"So then—"

"Point taken, Hermione. Happy now?" asked Harry as they reached Hagrid and the rest of the class.

"Very," whispered Hermione, intently turning back to listen to Hagrid.

"Well I for one am not. Why is it that we always have to play by her way?" whispered Ron, who was now on the other side of Harry.

"Because she's a girl and she'll scratch our eyes out if we don't," Harry whispered back.

Hermione secretly smiled. She loved the fact that Harry would almost always move out of his way just so that she stayed calm. Though sometimes, she must admit, she felt as though he were overreacting. Her was treating her like she was some bomb, or some monstrous beast that if pet the wrong way...would bite their heads off.

Sometimes she liked it. Other times she felt foolish. Those were the times where she felt he was going along with a little two-year-old's game.

"Alright class. Today we'll be reviewin' all about Unicorns. Yer N.E.W.T.s will have loads a' questions about em' so grab a partner an' follow me," said Hagrid, starting to walk towards the Forbidden Forest.

Hermione sighed and turned around to look at Harry and Ron. Only that they weren't there. Once again...she was the third and unwanted wheel. Now she needed to find a partner, and fast before she'd get paired off with a Slytherin.

'_Parvati and Neville...Dean Seamus...Harry and Ron...ugh! No one else from Gryffindor that I know is available. No one from Gryffindor is available **period**.'_

"Right then, everybody's got a partner?"

Gryffindors politely answered with a yes, but Slytherins didn't even bother to nod.

'_Of course **I've** got to be the oddball_' thought Hermione, as she dreadfully raised her hand.

"Yes 'Ermione?"

"I haven't got a partner."

"Of course you don't," said Pansy Parkinson. "Who'd want to be partnered with **you**?"

"Dat'll be enough," said Hagrid sternly, and looked around the whole of the class. "Anybody else hasn't got a partner?"

A single hand rose quite noticeably amongst the crowd, a disgruntled expression on his face.

Hermione's stomach clenched painfully as she realized who it was. She looked around to Harry and Ron, who were successfully avoiding her eyes.

"Alright then, Hermione. Yeh...uh...got yourself an honorable partner," he said apologetically. "Okay! This is the plan," began Hagrid, stopping right in front of the forest. "Dere's a good amount a' Unicorns in this forest. They're well an' healthy an' all a' different breeds. Once you find a Unicorn, I want you to draw it on a piece of parchment as well as you can and fer homework find out as much you can abou' that Unicorn. All clear?"

There was a weak murmur of approval before he started calling out pairs.

"Ron Weasley an' Harry Potter. Ready?"

They nodded.

"Okay you may go in. Parkinson who's yer partner?"

"Theodore Nott."

"Yeh ready?"

"Of course," said Pansy, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"Go in then," said Hagrid sourly.

Two by two, pairs were sent into the Forest. Some six pairs later, Hermione was called.

"'Ermione Granger an' Blaise Zabini, you ready?"

"Do we have a choice?" asked Blaise sourly.

"O' course you do. Are yeh ready or not?"

"Yes, Hagrid" said Hermione. And they were sent in.

Silence was all around, the only thing heard was Hagrid asking if Draco Malfoy and Lavender Brown were ready.

There was no interest of conversation from either of them. Not with each other at least. But alas, Zabini just couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"So what are we on the look out for again?" he asked, even though he knew the answer.

"Unicorns. If you'd have paid any attention to Hagrid rather than try everything in your power to cause chaos or make fun of him—"

"Shut up Granger," said Blaise tiredly. "Let's just find it as quick as possible and get the hell out of here and never look at each other again."

"Fine by me," said Hermione, turning to her right and deeper into the woods.

"Where are **you **going?" asked Blaise.

"The soil gets moist around here. Unicorns would want to drink at this hour," said Hermione logically.

"No. They'd want to go _this _way," said Blaise.

"Why?" asked Hermione.

"Cause I said so."

"That's not good enough."

"Look. You may be smart and all, but I'm sexier...**way** sexier. So what I say goes."

Hermione laughed. If he kept it up like that, this trip might not be so bad.

"What' s so fucking funny, mudblood?"

_Well so much for that thought._

Hermione gave a small, sarcastic smile. "Is it just you and Malfoy, or is every Slytherin that conceited?"

"We're not conceited. We're honest."

"And oh so modest," murmured Hermione, as she kept on walking the path she had chosen.

"Granger! We're going **this **way and it's final!"

Hermione spun around. "And who do you think you are, trying to boss me around!"

"I'm Blaise Zabini. And a Slytherin."

"And is that supposed to mean something?"

"Of course. Now unless you want problems in school regarding _another_ Slytherin...and you know who I'm talking about...I suggest you follow me."

Hermione's eyes widened. Of course Malfoy would be telling Zabini of what had happened between them. They were best friends. But wait—

She and Harry were pretty close, but she wouldn't tell **him** about her and Malfoy. It was more shameful to him than it was to her, right? Unless...it was just as she feared.

Draco Malfoy just wanted her on his list.

It was as simple as that. And she had known it right? There was no way she actually thought that he had some _personal interest_ in her. That was absolutely impossible.

"Shall I lead the way?" asked Blaise, his stunning blue eyes screaming sarcasm as his flawless face broke into a smirk.

Hermione gave a little jump out of her reverie. "If you must," she said sourly.

Blaise started walking to his left, walking deeper into a part of the of the forest where Hermione was certain no Unicorn will ever be. But then again, Slytherins were also smart. Who knows, perhaps they'll find a rare breed and get extra recognition.

But of course he'll try and take all credit...which he **just might** be entitled to.

Blaise stopped at a clearing and looked around in deep thought.

A heavy fog was settling in, the trees almost bared from all their leaves. Hermione started wishing she had brought her scarf and her gloves along, but she knew she was overreacting. More than 50% of the reason why she felt cold was due to the Slytherin she was with.

'_Slytherins are really handsome though,'_ she thought, remembering Malfoy's perfect facial features. '_Too bad their absolute assholes._'

"Why have we stopped?"

Blaise didn't answer, instead walked at an angle between straight and to his right. Hermione decided not to argue and just followed, her mind not alert whatsoever.

It must have been at least half an hour of wandering and not finding a thing before Hermione noticed that they were making no progress. Of course she wouldn't have noticed were it not for the chill in the wind.

"Where _are_ you taking us?"

"I'm...finding a really rare Unicorn. So it'll _obviously_ take time."

"Do you even **know** where we are?" asked Hermione, clear anger and suspicion in her voice.

"Of course I do, you stupid mudblood. But all your jabbering isn't letting me concentrate."

"I bet you're not even sure if we're still on safe ground," said Hermione, carefully and alertly taking out her wand and with her free hand put a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Of course I am, Granger."

"Then do me the favor and tell me where we are," asked Hermione, looking around to see if there was anything that was about to jump out and kill them.

Blaise also took out his wand, but he put it to the back of Hermione's neck. "We're in the Dark Forest," said Blaise. "And you are under my command."

Hermione calmly turned around and pointed her wand a bit below his waistline. "Don't make me hurt you," she whispered pushing her wand painfully against him.

"Sheesh Granger," said Blaise in an oddly high voice. "Who knew you were a feisty one?"

He shrugged and his voice went back to normal. "But then again...it's always the quiet ones you have to worry about. I didn't think that the Headgirl would threaten an innocent student."

"You're everything but innocent, Zabini. You're a self-centered, idiot who thinks—"

She was cut off by Blaise's alert expression, his ears slightly perked upwards. He seriously reminded Hermione of a Shepard Dog on watch.

"Shhh," he whispered, looking beyond Hermione's head, but nowhere specific.

Hermione turned around, wand at the ready. There was nothing there.

She strained to hear anything suspicious...nothing.

She turned back to Blaise, who was still listening and looking around frantically.

"There's nothing there—"

Just as she had finished saying that, as if on cue, about thirty for fifty Centaurs came to view, all circling them.

"You were saying?" asked Blaise, as he backed up to Hermione, wand raised.

Hermione quickly put her wand away, and nudged Zabini to follow suite.

"Who are you? What are you doing here, you are not welcomed."

"I-_we_ are terribly sorry. We did not mean to intrude or invade your Forest."

"Then what are you doing here?" asked a black Centaur.

"It was a school assignment—"

"We are not common animals to study or observe!" called out another Centaur. Others stomped in agreement.

"No! We have not come to study you...we have simply come in search of a Unicorn to draw—"

"Unicorns! They're the purest creatures known to us! You shall **not** harm—"

"We haven't come to harm shit!" yelled Blaise, and quite a few Centaurs gasped in offense. "We came to draw them and get out of here. It's a school assignment from Hagrid—"

Many Centaurs stomped the ground angrily at the mention of Hagrid. "Nice one, Zabini," whispered Hermione.

"Hagrid knows that this forest is ours. How _dare_ he—"

"This forest isn't yours!" yelled Blaise.

"Zabini...SHUT UP!"

"You," said the chestnut-bodied centaur Magorian, looking at Hermione. "Have I not seen you before?"

"Yes. Yes you have. I-I've been here before. With Harry Potter and...and Hagrid."

"You were foals then, were you not?"

"Yes," whispered Hermione. She didn't like the way Magorian had said that they had once been foals...meaning they were no longer allowed that excuse. "Harry Potter and I were...foals."

"But you are no longer young!" yelled Bane. "You no longer have escape! You have been warned before but now—"

"Now we shall show them that centaurs are not to be meddled with."

"We weren't **trying** to meddle with _anyone_. We got lost...it was mere accident—"

"An accident you will now pay for!" said Magorian, and all centaurs raised their bows.

Blaise raised his wand and muttered "holy shiit!"

Seeing no other option, Hermione also took out her wand, her back pressed against Blaise's.

"Damn Granger. Look what you got us into!"

"Me?! **You** were the one who led us here in the first place!"

"Well what do we do **now**?" whispered Blaise.

"Whatever you do...do **not** attack them. Just use defensive spells. Protect yourselves and do **not** harm them."

"Oh yes," said Blaise sarcastically. "Because _they're_ going to do the same thing for us."

"No...I just don't want to hurt them," said Hermione earnestly.

Blaise scowled. "Girls and their sensitivity."

An arrow flew past Hermione and Blaise's ear, and before they knew it...hundreds of arrows were flying at them from each direction...since centaurs were hastily reloading.

"_Protego_!" they both shouted repeatedly. After a while of speedily repeating the spell though, it sounded as if they were saying 'potego!'

They kept turning in order to block arrows from all sides. That was, however, until their spells would no longer work.

"**Protego!- Protego!- Protego!- Potego!- POTEGO!- POTEGO!- POTEGO!- ****POTEGO!!!**"

"Damn it!" said Blaise, and dived for the floor.

Hermione, who wasn't expecting Blaise leave her back exposed received an arrow right on her lower back.

"HOLD FIRE!" yelled Magorian, and all bows were lowered.

Blaise looked up from the floor and around at Hermione. She pulled out the arrow on her lower back and looked at it miserably.

"You do not wish to use your magic against us?" he asked. He didn't seem to have noticed that she had been hit.

Hermione nodded a simple no, before collapsing to the floor.

* * *

Hermione slowly came to consciousness as the cold air slashed her face. She felt her body bounce harshly, drag roughly, and be held tightly.

"I swear, I should have just left you there to bleed to death. I would have too, but those stupid half-breeds wouldn't allow it. Not to mention that I would be in **major** trouble if I got back without you..._could you **please** try and walk_?! You're bloodying my robes."

Blaise let go of her body, which he was unwillingly carrying, so that she fell on all fours.

Hermione slowly sat back and leaned against a tree.

"What are you doing? Come on, Granger! We have to go! It's near dark it has to be at least 6:30! And I'm starving so the faster you start walking, the better."

"D-did we find the Unicorn?" asked Hermione, slowly getting up.

"**No** we didn't find the Unicorn!" yelled Blaise. If Hermione didn't know any better, she'd say he was losing it.

She looked around. "W-where are we?" asked Hermione, gaining strength.

"We're making our way back to the school," said Blaise. "Now hurry up!" he yelled, waving her to get a move on.

"But...it looks as if...well...what route did you take?"

"The **normal** route out of the Dark Forest," said Blaise impatiently. "The **left **facing south."

"Dark Forest?" she whispered to herself, and slowly, but surely...and weakly...realization dawned upon her. "Dark Forest?!"

"Yes, Granger. **Dark Forest**. Though I swear...I never knew that Centaurs lived in the Dark Forest."

"They don't!" yelled Hermione, having to lean back against the tree.

She regained control...and if it weren't because she had been hit with an arrow, she would have long murdered the bastard.

"You mean to tell me," said Hermione, breathing deeply as she shoved her hair away from her face. "That you thought we were in the Dark Forest the whole time?"

"Well **duh**, Granger. Look, you're obviously out of it and you're really getting pale, so I'll just drag you the rest of the way. It can't be far," he reasoned walking towards Hermione in a mission to grab her waist and pull her till they reached the school.

Hermione put a hand up to stop him, and looked at him wearily. "Zabini. We-we're in the **Forbidden Forest**. You _ass_ dragged us deeper into the forest! Neither **you** nor **I **know what kinds of animals are in here! What an idiot!" she breathed.

Blaise looked at the darkening sky. "Oh," he said simply. "That explains a lot...like the centaurs," he added. "And why the place only keeps on getting thicker and thicker. **Not** to mention why we haven't reached the school yet...or why no one has found us. We keep on running away from them!"

Hermione clapped sardonically. "Bravo. Absolutely—" she took a sharp intake of breath, clearly out of pain, but continued. "—brilliant," she breathed.

Blaise's jaw clenched. "Well then...if you choose to be sarcastic, I could easily find my way back **alone**...since no one **else** seems to care for the both of us."

"Have you tried sending sparks in the air?" asked Hermione, blinking hard to keep consciousness.

"Oh...that would be a smart idea. Only—" said Blaise, opening his hands to show that they were empty. "The asses took my wand."

"The _who_?"

"The Centaurs, Granger. The _c-e-n-t-a-u-r-s_. They took it. It was the only way that they'd let me go. Then of course they didn't want you lying half dead in their forest so they made me take you along."

"Did they take mine?" asked Hermione, feebly checking her pockets.

"No."

"Then _why_ didn't you use it?"

"Don't you think I **tried**? That wand of yours is one _tough_ piece of wood to use."

Hermione allowed a small smile to appear on her face. "Thank you."

"It wasn't a complement," said Blaise, and gave her his ugliest sneer.

Hermione decided not to reply and faintly lifted her wand, sending green sparks in the air. She sat down by the tree she had been leaning against and lay her head back.

**What** she had done to deserve such a long class of Care of Magical Creatures stuck with a Slytherin she had no idea...but it was one cruel punishment.

"Hey...hey-hey-hey Granger!" whispered Zabini in alert. "Stay awake!"

He kicked her feet.

"You're the one with the wand!"

* * *

Malfoy looked up from his homework, which he had decided to do in his dormitory to avoid all lays. He really had to concentrate on his homework.

"You're back" he said, as Blaise shut the door behind him.

"Yea. I am. Please...don't fuss about my health."

"What happened?"

"I thought we were in the Dark Forest, so I led us the wrong way...and we met up with a herd of centaurs."

Draco leaned back on his pillow, a huge smirk on his face. "How'd you get out of **that one**?"

"...they took my wand," he said sourly.

"Are you getting it back?"

"I hope, said Blaise, taking off his robes.

"Don't tell me you gave them your wand before they warned you of your death," said Draco.

"Of course not, you moron. We didn't go down easy."

"...what you do?"

"Well, first, Granger tried to explain and compromise to the mules," said Blaise. "But they didn't listen, so they started shooting these arrows at us," said Blaise, shrugging and turning around and headed for the bathroom. It was the first time Draco was able to see the sleeve of the arm that carried Hermione.

Draco immediately sat up, "Blaise, you're bleeding!"

Blaise, already at the Bathroom's threshold, stopped and looked at the sleeve covered in blood. He smirked, "Oh. That."

Draco got up from his bed, "Well what are you waiting for?! Go to the Hospital Wing!"

"Awww," said Blaise exaggeratedly, slouching slightly for effect. "I **knew** you cared! Come on...give me a _hug_," said Blaise, slowly walking to Draco with his arms open.

"Fuck no! You're covered in blood and I'm not gay."

Blaise stopped and smirked. "You just killed the mood, man. But don't worry. I'm not hurt."

"Don't try and be a tough guy," said Draco.

"I'm not," said Blaise, making his way to the bathroom. "It's not my blood. An arrow hit Granger and she passed out, the little bitch. So after the arrow hit her...**not before**...this centaur ordered everyone else to hold fire, and since we didn't use magic against them, they let us go. But he knew that it was the little mudblood that told me to just use protective spells. So they took **my** wand...and since Granger had passed out...I had to drag her in the direction I thought was the way out. **Unfortunately**, I still thought we were in the Dark Forest, so I took the left facing south...which got us deeper into the woods. You know I was surprised no one was on the lookout for us, or that the tress and plants would just get thicker and thicker. I know, **I know**, _why didn't I pay attention to the oaf? _He probably mentioned it before we entered it. But I hadn't, so I was at loss and Granger could get heavy after a while. But what else could I do? I know what you're thinking..._Why didn't you use her wand and sent out sparks?_ Well let me tell you something. That wand of hers is one **hell** of a difficult object. It could go to the _Department of Mysteries_. I guess only Mudbloods could use it. Anyways," said Blaise, stepping out of the bathroom with no shirt on. "I have to take a shower," he said.

He reached his trunk and looked for his towel.

"So please...don't try and join me," said Blaise, went to the bathroom and locked the door.

Draco stood rooted to his spot, fully clothed as he still hadn't finished with his homework. An arrow had hit Granger.

Draco laughed.

How long had he wished that something drastic were to happen to her? Since first year, no doubt.

'_Hope she's alright though. I don't want to loose this bet because she died. Though it wouldn't be a bad trade...'_ thought Draco.

He had to get used to thinking like that again. If he started thinking other things...Lord knows **what** might happen.

Draco sat on his bed, took off his robe and left everything else on. Tired, he rolled up his sleeves and loosened his tie, yawning as he turned back to his homework.

_Pathetic_, there was no way he'd be able to finish his homework tonight. Maybe after a short walk, he'd be able to do it. After all, he **was** Draco Malfoy. And he **was** a busy drop-dead-gorgeous man.

Rubbing his mouth in thought, Draco slowly got up and started for the door. If he was lucky, he'd find Granger and be able to chat with her, and get her once and for all. He was sick and tired of her invading his thoughts. It wasn't cool.

Vincent Crabbe burst through the door, nearly hitting Draco.

"Goddamn!" swore Draco. "What's the fucking rush, Crabbe?!"

Crabbe, who looked like he had just received the workout of his life, was panting too hard to answer clearly.

"Pro—fe—sr Sn-ape wants to—."

"What?! Speak clearly, man!"

"Professor Snape...wants to...see you. Says...it's urgent," said Crabbe, hands resting on his knees.

"Do you know if I'm in trouble?"

Crabbe shook his head no and pointed out the door. "Hurry before...I get in trouble."

* * *

"Hermione you're finally here. I got back from detention about half an hour ago. What happened to you and Zabini?"

"Nothing," said Hermione, pushing Harry out of the way to her room.

"Hey are you okay?"

"I'm fine!"

"What's wrong?" asked Harry, his arms open in offense.

"I don't want to talk to you," said Hermione making her way up the stairs.

"Why? What did **I** do?!"

Hermione spun around. She was not in the mood for rhetorical conversations. "Just leave me alone, Harry!"

She walked up a few other steps before Harry abruptly bolted in sprint to catch up to her. He ran up the stairs two at a time and took hold of Hermione's arm.

She yanked it out of his grip, very much to his surprise. "**Don't** touch me, Harry. Right now...I don't want to talk to you or Ron or **anyone** for that matter."

"Quit being a bitch and tell me what's up," said Harry.

"**A bitch**?! You know Harry, you and I are pretty close. But you and Ron will always have that _male bond_. That is something I'll **never** be able to accomplish, and I'm _so_ sorry."

"Hermione is all of this because Ron and I chose each other rather than one of us choose you?"

Hermione gave a sarcastic laugh. "I wouldn't have minded at **_all_ **if it weren't for the fact that you...**once again**...left me with a dangerous Slytherin."

"A dangerous Slytherin? Zabini ain't no—"

"Yeah. To you! You, the **Great Harry Potter**. Blaise Zabini is _no match_ for **The Boy that Lived**. But what about Hermione Granger, Harry? A girl. And I'm not saying that a girl is weaker than a guy...but you very well know **just **how _slick_ Slytherins are. He could have raped me...or...or..._whatever_," sighed Hermione.

She turned around and jogged up the rest of the stairs, leaving a very stricken Harry rooted to the bar-handle.

'_Something happened._'

Harry sped after her but Hermione had already reached her room and was in the procedure of slamming the door on Harry's face were it not because he was stronger. Harry tried to push the door open as gently as possible, but he soon got angry.

"**Fuck** Hermione, let me in!"

"_Excuse me? _This isn't your room!" said Hermione, back against the door and trying with all her might to close it.

"Hermione! Come on, just tell me!"

"Tell you what?!" yelled Hermione.

"What...HAPPENED!" yelled Harry, using his whole weight against the door.

Luckily Hermione had moved out of the way, so the door swung right open, and Harry had to take a few big steps so that he didn't fall.

Hermione closed the door and looked at him with her arms crossing her chest.

"Right," said Harry, gathering his thoughts. "Look I'm sorry, okay? I'm really really—"

"Pathetic."

"I was going to say sorry again...but that could work."

"Harry, you and Ron do this to me all the time! It's not fair!"

"No Hermione. Everything happens to **you**. Nothing happens to Ron, or anyone else."

"That's not true!"

"Yes it is, Hermione. You and I hang out more than me and Ron do. We spend more time talking and more time _arguing_ together than Ron and I have! We have to catch up **sometime**. I was _sure_ you'd understand!"

"I **do**, Harry! But like I said, had it been ANY OTHER PERSON...I wouldn't have minded! Not the least bit! But since it was a **Slytherin** then I must say, I was a bit upset."

"It wasn't even Malfoy!"

"No Harry, it wasn't! It was his **best friend**!"

"**So what?!** Did anything happen?" asked Harry.

"Yes Harry. _Something happened,"_ said Hermione.

"What."

"**Nothing** that concerns you, Harry. It's not like _you_ care anyway!"

As quick as lightning, Harry spun around, took hold of Hermione's desk chair and flung it to the wall, barely missing Hermione's face. His face was red and his stare as furious as any beast. Both breathing hard for different reasons, Harry wasn't done with his explosion.

"YOU ALWAYS THINK THAT! WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO? ACT ALL **MUSHY** LIKE SOME PATHETIC LOSER IN LOVE AND TELL YOU THAT YOU'RE GREAT?! THAT I CARE FOR YOU AND THAT I **LOVE** YOU?!?! DO YOU WANT ME TO ACT LIKE A _BOYFRIEND_ INSTEAD OF A FRIEND, BECAUSE IF YOU DO...SORRY HERMIONE. **I DON'T SEE YOU LIKE THAT**!!!"

Hermione, after remembering to breathe, responded in a low, menacing and hurt voice.

"**Don't** flatter yourself Harry **Potter**," she spat. "**I** don't see you like that **either**, and I never will. You're not..._my type_. And I **don't** want you to act like a boyfriend. All mushy and tell me that you **love** me and **care **for me...God forbid **that** happens."

"Well...good," said Harry. "Cause even if you **did**...I wouldn't do it cause you know...I'm a man. And...yea!"

Hermione and Harry stared at each other for a while. It was a battle of who had the most powerful stare, and both showed different emotions. Harry's were full of indignation, while Hermione's was full of sarcasm and challenge.

"Leave. I want you out of my room..._now_."

"Sure thing, little Ms. Perfect," snarled Harry.

He walked past Hermione, but she did not turn around, waiting to hear the door open and close to ensure his absence. But it never came.

Hermione turned around to find Harry rooted to his spot, staring at the door.

"What's wrong, Harry Potter? Got lost?"

Harry ignored her, his back still the only thing visible to her. "Hermione is that..._blood_?"

"What?" asked Hermione, and walked next to Harry to follow his stare.

On the door, where Hermione had placed her back to stop Harry from entering her room, was a slight smear of blood. Not dramatic, but nevertheless noticeable.

"Hermione...**are you bleeding**?" asked Harry, still looking at the door.

"I told you _something _had happened, Potter. But worry not...**I'm fine**. Not that you—"

Harry, eyes glued to the door, lifted a sole finger and pointed it at Hermione. "**Don't** go there."

Hermione clenched he jaw and smiled sardonically at his profile. She walked to the door and opened it for him, causing Harry to finally look at her.

"Good-bye."

"Hermione what—"

"Harry I don't want to talk about it, okay?! Now leave!"

"Did you go the Hospital Wing?!"

"**Yes**."

"Then how come you're still bleeding?"

"I'm not. It's my robes. Now, please. I don't want to talk to you, Potter."

"Well...I don't want to talk to you either!" said Harry, giving Hermione one last look and storming out of the room.

"Well **fine**!"

Harry, halfway down the staircase, turned around. "**Fine!**"

"**Fine!!**" yelled Hermione to Harry's retreating back.

"**FINE!**"

"_Fine!"_

"FINE!!

"_**Fine."**_

"Good-bye, **_Hermione_**!!" yelled Harry from the threshold of his room, and slammed the door shut.

"Good-bye, **Harry!!**" yelled Hermione and stepped out of her room and slammed the door. She made her...**angry**...way down the stairs and to the portrait, storming out.

* * *

To the outsider, Hogwarts was a place of gleeful learning, happy friendships, and eternal legends. A warm home that held the most enchanting features.

But to those that attended and lived there...knew that it was mostly about tragedy and secrets. Dreadful news and frightening discoveries.

Of course it wasn't _always_ like that. There were many times that laughter and trivia were heard of, but it was usually made by those oblivious to the truth. Like Hufflepuffs.

Draco Malfoy knocked on the door to the office of his head of house. He couldn't deny that besides curiosity, he was a bit uneasy. But then Crabbe was known for acting irrationally.

"Enter," came the short reply.

Draco turned the knob and entered the room, closing the door behind him and waiting for further instruction.

"Sit, Mr. Malfoy," said Snape, whose back was facing him as he poured himself whiskey, the clinging of glass on glass classical to Draco.

Draco took a seat in the chair in front of his desk, leaned back onto the chair and rested his chin on his fist. "You sent for me, Professor?"

"Yes. Yes I did" said Snape, turning around and taking a seat. "I have received some...terrible news, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco slowly sat up and looked intently at Professor Snape as he took another gulp from his glass.

"You have, of course, received a letter from the Ministry," continued Snape. He reached to the side of his desk and opened the top drawer, taking out a neatly folded piece of parchment with a red ribbon. "In which I am of current possession."

"Why do you have it if it's for me?" asked Draco.

"It was given to me, Mr. Malfoy. Do not think that we interfered with any owl to get it."

"Well, may I please have it?" asked Draco.

Snape put the letter aside on the desk, and looked at Draco, his hands folded.

"I understand that after the...dreadful information that you are about to receive, that you will feel an absolute loner. Mr. Malfoy I want you to know that, as a man of honor, you must not let this get in the way of your future."

"Future?"

"Yes. Your dreams. Ambitions. Determination for better than great."

Draco never knew he had _dreams_ or _ambitions_ or _determination_...but it sounded good so he wasn't going to be stupid enough to deny it.

"Mr. Malfoy I understand that you have always been able to rely on—"

"I don't rely on anyone, Professor. As a matter of fact I—"

"Will think differently after you read the letter."

Draco's eyebrows furrowed in surprise and confusion. "Why?"

"This letter—"

"Which should have been able to be given to me from the start, seeing as it **is** mine."

"—contains something that is not of your liking."

"Professor, sorry for the interruption but you are starting to agitate me."

"Perhaps you should read this letter—"

"That's not a bad idea," said Draco accusingly.

Snape held the letter in his hand weakly. "But of course, what it holds might just anger you more. The Ministry could be such idiots."

"I'll be the judge of that," said Draco harshly, extending out his hand.

Snape looked weary and dreadfully at his hand, and paled amazingly. "Mr. Malfoy I suspect that you'll handle the news responsibly and maturely. You must promise."

His voice was shaky, and only worked to frighten and anger Draco more. "Professor, I have no doubt that I will."

"Do not—"

"**The letter**, if you will Professor," said Draco, and with a bit of hesitation from Snape, the letter was in his hand.

Draco slowly undid the ribbon and unfolded the letter.

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_It is of my deepest sorrow to inform you that—_

"Mr. Malfoy, I'm deeply sorry," interrupted Snape.

—_an attack has, on behalf of The Dark Lord's followers, occurred at 12:56 pm in a restaurant located in Southern England. Sadly, your mother, Narcissa Malfoy, along with Ministry official Dolores Umbridge, were having lunch together at the time..._

Draco's palms became sweaty and his heartbeat had reached a dangerous speed. His mother had mentioned something about having brunch with Dolores Umbridge. He cleared his throat and continued reading.

_It saddens me more to be the one to inform you that your mother,_

"Once again Mr. Malfoy. It's a terrible misfortune."

—_and many more attending the restaurant at the time, was killed in the attack. We are fortunate that Dolores Umbridge suffered few injuries but nonetheless is interned at St. Mungo's._

_For your safety's sake, we rather you not leave school grounds. Therefore, though it might not be your opinion, we find it best that you not attend your mother's funeral. Once graduated you may do as you wish, nonetheless Hogwarts must obey to our requests. You must remain within the school grounds at all times. Do remember that we have your best interest at heart. We will miss your mother dearly._

_Once again, we are terribly sorry for the outcome of events. There was really nothing we could do. Your mother was an honorable woman, and shall always be remembered._

_Sincerely, Minister of Magic_

_Cornelius Fudge _

Draco reread the letter another four times, absolutely positive that he had read it wrong. That it wasn't true or that it would say that it was some sick joke.

But it didn't. And it **was** true.

Draco looked up, incredibly pale, his heart wrenching in his gut.

But he covered it all. A mask of fury was playing on his face instead.

"Explain this bullshit to me, Professor," said Draco, roughly placing the letter on the desk and slamming the side of his fist on it.

"I asked you to take this news maturely, Mr. Malfoy," said Snape weakly.

Draco shot up from his seat. "Maturely?! Tell me **how** I could act maturely when this," he pointed powerfully at the letter on the desk, "is telling me that my...my..."

He couldn't say it. Saying it would make it official. He couldn't say it or even admit it to himself. It was all a lie. And Snape knew it. He knew it was a bad joke...that's why he was looking so old and tired. He knew that it wasn't funny...but **someone** put him up to it.

"It is telling you that your mother has—"

"My mother **has not** died!" yelled Draco, his lips pursed together as he breathed deeply.

"Denial is not—"

"I AM NOT IN DENIAL!!" raged Draco, turning around and kicking the chair angrily, sending it flying halfway across the room. He turned around and started taking hold of little insignificant objects such as quills and a vase, and threw them against the wall.

"MR. MALFOY! HAVE SOME SELF CONTROL!!" yelled Snape, standing up from his seat.

Draco threw his last object, a cup in which the quills had once been placed in, against the wall with all his might. He stared after it, gathering his thoughts as his hands curled into fists.

"Draco," said Snape. "I need you to be a man. I need you to understand the fact that your mother is no longer—"

Draco snapped his head to Professor Snape, "I thought I told you already," said Draco menacingly. "My mother is not—"

"But she is, Mr. Malfoy," whispered Snape, looking right into Draco's silver eyes. "You have to accept that."

They stared at each other hard and long before Draco let out an odd breath of angry sarcasm, snapped the letter off Snape's desk and stormed out of the room.

_It is of my deepest sorrow to inform you that an attack has, on behalf of The Dark Lord's followers, occurred at 12:56 pm in a restaurant located in Southern England..._

..._It saddens me more to be the one to inform you that your mother, and many more attending the restaurant at the time, was killed in the attack..._

..._was killed in the attack..._

..._was killed in the attack..._

'**_My mother is _not_ dead!_**' thought Draco angrily as he stormed through the halls.

'**_I was talking to her this morning! Just this morning!! Come on, no one could go out for brunch and die. Not Mum!!_**'

...Not the only person that hasn't let him down...

And just like that, flashes of his childhood raced through his mind.

He was five and had been caught playing with the house elf, Dobby. With a little slap on the legs, was in his room, crying. And then came his mother to the rescue, and started to tickle him so to make him smile.

He was seven and already unable to control his magic. Sent to his room by his father for accidentally breaking a valuable object, and there she was. His mother comforting him and drying his tears.

He was eight and learning how to ride a broom. His father received an emergency call from the Ministry and had to go...leaving a very disappointed Draco behind. Sitting on the ground, pulling out grass from under a tree, he saw his mother oddly run outside with his father's broom. Something he knew she had to sneak out.

She gave a big wave to beckon him over, and with a lot of laughs and falls...he taught his mother how to fly.

He was ten and about to start Hogwarts. Wanting his son to be first in his studies, Lucius Malfoy did not allow him to do anything else other than study and answer questions. Not allowed to fly or step out of the room for any reason (seeing as he had a bathroom in his room and could send for food,) Draco Malfoy would have been the most bored ten year old were it not because his mother snuck every evening to play a quick game of anything.

He was twelve and punished for the summer because he hadn't been able to figure out that **Harry Potter** had been communicating with _their _house elf. Because **Harry Potter** had been able to escape the Basilisk. To deceive the Dark Lord's plans once again. And there was his mother, sneaking him books and letting him use her wand with her supervision. Letting him fly when Lucius was not around. Talking to him about everything on her mind and vise versa...just to kill time.

He was thirteen and his mother was telling him how to win a girl's heart. Advising him of what to wear and why. Telling him what girls like and want...at least for the moment. And having "the talk" without the basics.

He was fourteen and telling his mother about all the girls he..."**kissed**"...during his fourth year and rating them from best to worst.

He was fifteen and tearing in his bedroom out of confusion. His father in jail...what was to become of him? And there was Narcissa, crying even more for the loss of her husband's honor, yet telling him it will all be alright.

He was sixteen, and his best friend was over for the Christmas holidays, when he received the news that his father had given the Ministry names in order to deduct twenty years from his sentence. Blaise's father included...

And yet there was his mother, protecting his father's tribute so that her son could still have the honor of calling himself a Malfoy.

And now...he was seventeen...and without a mother at all.

'_Mum is not dead! This is all a misunderstanding!'_ thought Draco, pushing the doors of Hogwart's main entrance open.

He felt it. His blood boil so badly his fingers weakened. But it wasn't boiling because of anger, it was bubbling with worry. With that sudden intense fear that he really _was_alone.

"_I understand that after the...dreadful information that you are about to receive, that you will feel an absolute loner..."_

'**Well guess what, Professor? You're right,**' thought Draco sarcastically, walking into the cold air of night.

..._For your safety's sake, we rather you not leave school grounds..._

"Snape's right. The Ministry **are** idiots! I go wherever the hell **_I _**want to go!"

..._Therefore, though it might not be your opinion, we find it best that you not attend your mother's funeral..._

Draco, stopped cold by a tree near the river as he recalled the sentence. He hastily looked at the letter and read it over.

"Bastards," he whispered. "They...they...they don't want me to go to my mother's funeral!"

He had said it. He had confirmed it. His mother was dead. By saying that the Ministry did not want him to attend his mother's funeral, he had admitted to her passing away. The only person that he felt he could talk to **anything** about. The person that he did not want fear from. The only one that was always there for him. That had seen him back when he was weaker, and that didn't judge him.

The only person that ever **loved** him.

And now...she was gone.

Draco stopped breathing. He had admitted it to himself. Again. His mother was dead. As in...he'll never see or speak to her again.

The only woman he ever loved.

'_No. Don't. Malfoy be a man! Don't...don't...'_

He couldn't help it. In the pitch black night, tears blurred his vision before he sunk down against the tree, head on knees, as he angrily took hold of his hair and let out a loud sob. He had unconsciously crumpled the letter into a ball with his right hand. If only he could crumple the truth as easily.

The tree's bark brushed painfully against his back, but that was nothing to the pain he felt inside. He knew he looked pathetic, and God forbid anyone find him like that...he'd die of shame. But it was dark, cold and late. No one would be out at this time.

He wasn't crying quietly, but he was trying his best to. Rocking back in forth, head still on his knees, he looked like a scared little boy that was lost in the middle of nowhere.

There were the intakes of breaths that were uneven and broken up. And then the exhales that were painfully quiet as his face scrunched up in emotional pain.

He looked up and leaned his head against the tree, letting the tears roll gracefully down his cheeks.

There was a full moon, and he looked it dead in the eye. The moon and all celestial features.

"You," he choked. "You took her away from me!" he whispered. "You took my mum...she was all I had, you know."

He inhaled noisily as he rolled his head from side to side on the tree, one leg down.

He buried his face in his hands. "Mum...you left me. You left me, you didn't get to see me graduate. You didn't get to see me become something..."

And for the next minute, he curled up again and began to sob as quietly as he could...which wasn't saying much.

"_Malfoy?_"

Draco shot up to his feet, wand out, and searching hastily through the darkness for whomever was there.

"Who's there? Come out you coward!" he whispered loudly, roughly wiping the tears off his face.

A sole, delicate figure emerged from the shadows to the scarce light of the moon. Guilt and pity playing a major role in those honey-brown eyes.

"_Granger?!_" asked Malfoy, caught by such surprised he slacked the grip on his wand.

If there was anyone he wanted to see less other than the Minister of Magic, it was Hermione.

Hermione looked at him, and slowly walked forward, gently pushing his wand down. She looked at him with caution and sympathy, and he just stared back with unease and curiosity.

A tear that had been long threatening to fall finally escaped and rolled down his cheek, only so that Hermione could wipe it away with the back of her index finger.

Draco pulled back and roughly rubbed his eyes with his sleeve so that all the accumulating tears died to his robes, and not to Hermione's amazingly soft hands.

Draco snorted. "I bet you're just **loving** this Granger. Can't wait to get back to Potter and Weasley to tell them _all about_ you catching the **Slytherin King** _crying_."

Hermione looked at him sincerely and shook her head 'no.'

"Then what are you doing here, Granger?! Get the hell out!"

She didn't say anything, and just looked at him with those huge and innocent eyes. She looked almost angelic. Like a vision of perfection...she seemed so unreal.

"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" sneered Draco, but Hermione didn't even flinch. She just shook her head no.

It was very awkward and uncomfortable to have her look at you like she knows all the secrets of the world, or that she knows to do nothing else but wonder.

"God Granger, what do you want from me?!" asked Draco, more out of desperation than anything.

He clenched his jaw. Under no circumstance would he break down in front of Granger.

"A-are you okay?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"Of course I am," said Draco quickly.

"Then...why were you crying?"

"I wasn't crying!"

"You had said so before yourself, Malfoy," she said gently.

"You...you wouldn't understand," said Draco angrily and looked away.

"Understand what, Malfoy?" asked Hermione, taking another step closer to him.

"Granger just leave," he threatened. 'I think you've had enough fun—"

"Seeing you cry **isn't** fun, Malfoy. It's...scary."

"Oh it is, is it?"

"I want to help. Nothing more—"

"Well you can't do anything about it, Granger," said Draco, and looked at Hermione in the eye.

A herd of butterflies fluttered in his stomach to his throat. A reaction he much rather not interpret.

"You're not even going to let me try?" asked Hermione.

She didn't even really know if she wanted to help, or if she just wanted a better look at his handsome features actually show emotion.

Seeing Draco Malfoy cry made her feel...odd. It was like seeing your macho, 'I am the man of the house, everything I say goes' of a father break down and cry. Made you almost feel guilty that you might have added to that reaction.

But the only reason she felt guilty was because she had actually followed him since he had stepped out of the school.

She had been at Hagrid's, just having some quiet chat and reassuring him for the twentieth time that she was fine since her incident in the forest; and to **not** go and murder the centaurs.

Realizing that it was near midnight, she offered her retrieval to the castle and was halfway there when she saw Malfoy leave the castle. And with the intention of catching him in a Dark act, plotting against Dumbledore, meeting up with other Death Eaters...practicing the Dark Arts...only the Lord knew in all what that boy did.

But what she had NOT been ready to see was him breaking down and crying like a two-year old. Malfoy never showed any emotion other than rage and hatred.

Her heart was beating fast...she wanted him to stop. She wasn't used to it. If Malfoy was crying, the world just might be coming to an end. And in order to prevent that, she had to make him stop crying...

But then, just as she had reached the tree in secret, she heard him mumble to no one about his mother. Or to his mother?

"_Mum...you left me. You left me, you didn't get to see me graduate. You didn't get to see me become something."_

This had frightened her so much she had almost forgotten to breathe for about a minute or two.

Then to check if she was alive, spoke up. And suddenly, she had the biggest curiosity and wanted to help.

"Granger, if you could _please_ leave, I would be much better off."

Hermione smiled weakly, and took another step towards him. This only worked to anger him a bit more.

"Come on, I said please!" reasoned Draco.

How ironic was life? Whenever he was with her, she wanted him to leave her alone. And for the first _she_ was with _him_, he wanted her to leave.

Draco raised his wand at her again. "Leave or I'll hex you to the Hospital Wing."

"What—"

"Good Lord, Granger! Can't you take a hint? You're **unwanted** here."

Something in that last line fired her up to making her want to be wanted.

She looked at him carefully as their eyes linked worlds. Slowly, she took his wand from his slacked and useless grip.

She could hear the crickets scream their protests, but she paid no mind to any of that.

_For once in your life, do something unpredictable._

His wand in her hand, she wrapped that same arm around his neck and pulled him down. She stopped. Her lips ghosting over his as he, too stunned to think properly, stayed still...not making any forward movements whatsoever.

And then, she remembered that he had been crying, and that this wasn't the time to do something _unpredictable_.

She pulled him into a hug instead, and he didn't seem to know the difference seeing as he still did not move.

She put a gentle hand on his head, slightly forcing it on her shoulder as she combed her fingers through his hair. She felt his arms wrap around her waist and wondered if he was going to do anything more that might suggest something else.

When he didn't, she continued to comb his hair with her hand.

And the only reason, he convinced himself, that he let her was because

...his mother used to do that...

But he very well knew that never in his life had his mother touched his head and made him vulnerable to her touch at the same time like Hermione Granger.

* * *

**A.N:** Well there you have it, folks. The longest chapter. I promise I won't take so long to update the next chapter...

**Jealousy**

Oooh. That alone says a lot, doesn't it?

Some of you may be upset at the fight Hermione and Harry had...but come on...it was sincerely pathetic. If they let that get in the way of their friendship...then Hermione **just might** have to find herself a new friend...

Aaahh...I **love** leaving you guys hanging like that. Smiles innocently.

PLEASE REVIEW! LOVE YOU ALL!!!


	15. Beauty Is Only Skin Deep

**Chapter Fifteen: Beauty Is Only Skin Deep **

Hermione entered the Great Hall looking as tired and as sleepy as ever.

Her hair was wet, which allowed her the look of golden curls. A look that would only last till her hair dried. So naturally, knowing this information, Hermione had already tied her _golden curls_ into an unfinished ponytail...that was meant to resemble a bun and to keep all hair away from her neck thus showing it off...but like all beauty tricks she tried, it failed miserably.

Well, it's not like anyone was looking at her anyways. They were too busy looking at her homework.

She plopped down in between Ron and Neville, needless to mention that her intention was to ignore Harry. She might have been as tired as hell, but that didn't mean she would suffer from memory loss.

So she **might** have overreacted. And she **might** have been a bit rude to her caring friend, but she **had **been the third wheel for a while...and she **had **been exposed to danger because of it more than once. So she **did **have a reason to play sensitive. And besides...if she talked to Harry, he'd know that something was up. He'd know that something...**different** to say the least had happened last night when she left the common room and came back nearly six hours later.

_Hence the bags under her eyes._

"Hello Hermione. Did you finish your Potions essay yesterday?" asked Neville.

"Yes as a matter of fact I did. I finished it...wait...we had a Potions essay?!"

"Yeah the one on the Potion that you give to people so that they tell the truth."

"You mean the _Truth Potion_?"

"Oh yea, that one."

"Oh dear. I...I didn't know we had a stupid Potions essay!" exclaimed Hermione, looking around frantically hoping that it was a bad joke.

"It's true Hermione. We had one yesterday. Had to be 14 inches long," said Dean, taking a spoonful of porridge and a bite of toast.

"You're not playing a rotten joke are you?" asked Hermione desperately.

"Not unless we wanted you to have a heart attack," said Seamus.

"Do you?!" asked Hermione.

"...no..."

"Then why didn't you tell me yesterday about this essay?"

"We were sure Harry would tell you...you know...you two being so close and all," said Neville.

Hermione had never been so angry with anyone before in her life. Not even Malfoy.

"**Harry** didn't tell me a _thing_ about _any_ homework!"

"Well...I'm sure the professors will excuse you. Your disappearing almost had Hagrid sacked were it not because of Dumbledore," said Dean.

"_Sacked?_" asked Hermione.

"Yep," said Seamus. "Everyone was talking about it. Mind you, there were quite the few rumors flying around about you and Zabini."

"What _kind_ of rumors?" asked Hermione, her eyebrows meeting.

"That you two were dragged off by a hideous monster kicking and screaming. But that one was ridiculous, though. Because if it _were_ true...someone would have been bound to hear you. And then, there was the all-popular division between the sexes."

"The all-popular _what_?"

Dean spoke up this time. "Well, you know how all the girls are mad for Malfoy and Zabini. They all sort of, well, wished they were you. Stuck out in the wild where no one that could see you two...so many things **could** happen. So the jealous ones were saying how you probably stunned him or used the Imperius Curse. The ones that were just romantic were saying that you two were probably having some crazy monkey sex."

Hermione's jaw dropped, wondering how on earth **that** could be romantic.

"The guys however," interrupted Neville, "had a very different perspective on things."

"Yea," said Seamus. "They were more along the lines of reality. Anything that would not increase Zabini's reputation. At least the Gryffindor men. We were saying how you'd never do anything like that with a Slytherin. Or anyone for that matter. Not to mention that you would murder the bastard should he touch you. And then the **Slytherin** kids were saying how Zabini would never touch you _anyway_."

"Which is probably true," said Dean, earning a strong elbow in the stomach from Seamus.

Hermione rolled her eyes. She was used to it.

"So you guys know that we **didn't** do anything right?"

"Well we do now," said Neville.

"Good, because I'd hate it if...hang on...you mean you _doubted_ me?"

"No. Neville here is just joking. Come on...no offense Hermione...but you're just too goody-goody to do something like that. And besides," said Dean, taking a huge bite of the toast and pushing it to the side of his mouth. "He's too good-looking."

He received yet another elbow in the stomach.

Hermione smiled sarcastically and pushed her plate away. "All of the sudden **I'm** not hungry," she said, and got up from the table to leave.

"Hang on, Hermione," started Dean. "I'm sorry. I really, really am. I'm a brainless ass, I should have kept my opinion to myself."

Seamus looked up to the ceiling in surrender and regret, moving his head from side to side.

Dean seemed to have realized his mistake, but it was too late. Hermione was already on her way out of the Great hall.

"You are **so** tactless, man," said Seamus, shoving him lightly but roughly.

"Ah come on! Can you blame me?!"

"Hell yea!" said Seamus, getting a bit red. "She's one of our good friends and **you** have no right to bring her down like that. Leave that to the Slytherins!"

"But...I mean...she's not exactly **hott**," said Dean reasonably, even though it was quite evident that he felt bad.

"Neither is your mother," said Harry, who from afar had been listening to the whole conversation.

* * *

"You know, Draco. Irony is one hell of an ugly trick included in the package of life," said Blaise, adjusting his tie as he stepped out of the bathroom. 

"Whatever," said Draco, trying to finish his Care Of Magical Creatures homework.

"No I'm serious! Here we are, two best mates with an innocent bet between us in which **you** have to bed Granger. And here I am, having a million rumors buzzing around me that **I** scored with her. Isn't that ironic?" asked Blaise, putting on his robe.

"Extremely," said Draco, trying to look as if he was concentrating on his homework when in reality...

He was thinking about what happened last night.

How hugging her felt so right...though he had to crouch a great deal. He didn't know what had gotten into him. Normally he would have pulled away and hexed her senseless for touching him at all. But he only allowed her to hug him and play with his hair at the same time because his mother used to do that. And at the moment, anything that seemed to bring his mother to life was good enough for him.

It is quite obvious that he was in denial, but he'd deny that too.

And of course, Blaise Zabini, blind to any daydreaming, continued.

"But it was a real drag having to be with her...and **carry** her. I know she's skinny and all...but she gets heavy after a while. I felt like I was carrying a bag of bones!"

Draco looked at Blaise with an arced eyebrow. "She's not **that** skinny."

After a moment of silent thinking, Blaise answered. "I guess you're right. It's not like I felt her ribs of anything, and though you'll never hear me say it again...I think she's got a perfect waist. But that's all. I mean, there have been girls with more grabable features, mind you. And I was in right mind to kill her and rid Hogwarts of her once and for all...but I didn't have my wand. And then there was our bet," said Blaise, now working on his hair...admiring his reflection by snapping his fingers that ended at gunpoint.

"Would you get over yourself?" asked Draco, giving up on his homework and stuffing it in his book bag.

"Why should I? The ladies will never do it...why should they be special?"

"You're too conceited."

Blaise looked at Draco through the mirror, as he also happened to be perfecting his hair. "Look who's talking."

"The best-looking student to ever pass through Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Who happens to be dating one of the best looking Gryffindors. Did you know she's been basically banned from her house?" said Blaise, walking to his trunk.

"Banned?" asked Draco after him.

"Yea. Well, not _technically_. She's still allowed to sleep there...school policy. But hardly any Gryffindors talk to her. Call her a traitor for going out with you."

"Did they do that to Patil?" asked Draco.

"Of course not. She was actually pure and in **love**," said Blaise, as if the word had the most hideous meaning to it. "Brown's just greedy."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because Patil at least ate with her people. Brown acts like she's just ashamed of them. And thinks she has you wrapped around her finger."

Draco snorted. **That would be the day.**

"Exactly. So everyone's had enough of her snotty, I'm-better-than-everyone-else-because-I'm-going-out-with-Draco-Malfoy attitude," said Blaise, spraying cologne onto his neck and robes in two sprays.

"And you know this **how**?" asked Draco, starting for the door.

"Want some?" asked Blaise, raising his cologne to view. Draco nodded his rejection and he continued. "I slept with this Ravenclaw girl...forgot her name...anyways she has this boyfriend in Gryffindor so she told me all about it."

"You like sharing your women, don't you?"

He shrugged. "I don't want them forever. Just for the night. I see it as borrowing."

"...Figures..." said Draco as he closed the door behind them and started walking down the stairs to the common room.

"You used to be the same. What happened? Don't tell me you went all noble on me," said Blaise with a chuckle.

The day Draco Malfoy turned noble was the day he'd sleep with Dumbledore.

"No. But when you sleep with Brown, you'll want her a good twenty times before you get tired of her."

"How many times have you had her?"

"Fifteen or sixteen. One of those."

"So you've still to get tired of her?" asked Blaise, stepping out into the school corridors.

"Yes and no."

"Well thank you for clearing **that** up."

"Shut up. I meant that I'm not tired of her in bed but she gets annoying. Clinging onto me like she owns me."

"She does do that a lot, doesn't she?"

"Oh yes. But I don't want to talk about her right now. I have to break up with her sometime...she's not the only gorgeous girl in Hogwarts, you know."

"Yes, of course. There's always...**Granger**," said Blaise sarcastically.

"Get a life, Zabini. I think we all know that Granger's one of the _lesser_ prettier girls," Draco said, trying to give no sign of different interest in her.

"She's not that bad, you know," said Blaise innocently.

Draco felt something burn up inside him. He couldn't really point it out...but it was there.

"When she and I were in the forest...well I wanted to kill her...but when I threw her to the ground—"

"You threw her to the ground?!" asked Draco angrily.

"Yea. She was bloodying all my robes and she was getting heavy! Besides...she was becoming conscious."

"But you don't just...**throw** her to the ground!"

"..._Anyways_," said Blaise, looking at Draco strangely as he continued. "She was being very nice and oddly strong. I think it was because she was dying."

"She **wasn't** dying," reasoned Draco.

"Well then she must have lost a lot of blood...**to my robes**...because I swear, she could have glown in the dark."

"Okay...and where is this conversation headed at?"

"Well...you'll never hear me say this again by the way...but for a second...**just a second**...I pictured her naked."

"Okay I don't want to hear this," said Draco, but Blaise continued.

"And her body looked great! Of course, it was all my imagination—"

"—I said I didn't want to hear this—" said Draco, walking ahead of Blaise.

"And then when I looked at her face I wanted to throw up! I mean, **Granger!** But you can't really blame me...I didn't have much to eat the whole day being in that forest," said Blaise as he caught up with his best friend.

"How horrible," he answered sadistically.

"I feel even worse for you my friend. It's **your** job to actually see her..._naked_. To _touch_ her and—"

"I am very well aware of what I'm supposed to do with her, Zabini," said Draco moodily.

For some reason, he didn't want Blaise to even **think** of them like that. That was something..._personal_.

"Have you made any progress, old mate?" asked Blaise good-naturedly.

"What progress I make or don't make is none of your fucking business."

"Then let's talk about **her** progress with Boot."

"Let's not talk about **anything** and say we did."

"Let's discuss what's up your ass this morning."

Draco turned the corridor that led to the Great Hall.

"Let's not and go—"

"Draco. Draco!" came an urgent female voice.

They both turned around. And to Draco's disgust and Blaise's humor, it was Lavender Brown.

Blaise patted Draco's back. "Well now, I'll be on my way in. You don't mind do you?"

And just as Draco was about to tell him that if he left, he'd surely regret it, Blaise continued. "Good! I'll save you two a seat," and with that he turned around and disappeared behind the Great Hall doors.

Lavender put a lock of hair behind her ear and looked at Draco with what he imagined she thought was a provocative stare.

"Shall we?" she said, linking her arm with his.

'_She's always hanging onto me like she wants to remind the world that I've fucked her.'_

The Great Hall doors opened and a small frame with a handful of books and a large, purse-like book bag walked out, head down.

Draco eyed her closely, and she seemed to sense being watched because she stopped and slowly looked up, her cheeks turning red as her eyes lay on his.

He felt his gut twist unpleasantly, and the fluttering of butterflies in his stomach did not help.

"**Excuse us**, Hermione," said Lavender spitefully. "You're **in** our way."

Hermione turned to Lavender slightly startled. She hadn't realized she was there.

With a sardonic smile and a better grip on her books, she said, "I'm sorry, am I interfering with your grand entrance?"

"As a matter of fact, you are. So if you don't mind moving Hermione, it would be to our pleasure that you do."

"And if I don't want to please you?" asked Hermione casually.

'_Ooo. What's this? A **competition**? Christmas must be coming early,'_ thought Draco, before he reminded himself that he was regarding Hermione Granger in this so called _competition_...he quickly gave up on that hope.

The Great Hall doors opened again, and another figure came to view.

"Hermione, there you are! Look, I've been wanting to—"

He stopped dead, his frantic stare relaxed as it found Hermione, and now menacing as it rested on Malfoy.

"Is there a problem here?" he asked, walking to Hermione and standing alertly next to her.

"Nothing except the fact that you two are blocking our way in," said Lavender.

"Haven't you heard of walking around someone?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," said Lavender, flipping her hair in superiority.

Hermione sighed and turned to face what many girls believe was a handsome Gryffindor. "Harry, please," she whispered.

Draco stared at them, anger boiling within him.

'_And here comes Potter to save the day.'_

"Yea Potter. You should know better than to mess with us. Take your little mudblood and get the hell out of our sight."

Hermione snapped her head to Malfoy, a hurt look in her eyes. "We were **just** leaving," said Hermione, taking one last look at the pair before turning to Harry.

"Let's go," she said, but he didn't move.

"Harry come on it's not—"

"You must pardon my interruption Hermione, but I won't leave till this idiot here apologizes."

"That's not necessary," began Hermione, to be once again interrupted.

"But it is, Hermione. These two think themselves high and mighty. This one," he signaled to Lavender, "thinks she's better than all the other girls because she's dating the King of Slytherin. But little does she know what's goes around about her. And one thing is for sure, it's nothing complementary."

"Harry, please."

"And this kid here thinks he's a man!" said Harry, looking at Draco. "But a true man can respect a girl. Can restrain himself to just one lady. **That's** courage and challenge, Malfoy. **That's **being a man. **Not** sleeping with many," he looked at Lavender, "...whores..."

Hermione looked up at Harry in admiration. If this was his way of apologizing, it was very unique.

Meanwhile Lavender gasped in offense and looked at Draco, expecting him to defend her virtue. He looked angry...but not because Harry had rightfully called Lavender a hoe, but because he had basically called him a little boy. A coward.

Not to mention the look he had earned from the stupid mudblood.

Hermione seemed to sense the anger and tension, so she slightly pulled on Harry's sleeve. "Come on, Harry. Let's go."

"That's right, Granger. Take your little best friend and—"

"**Don't** push your luck, Malfoy," she said coldly. "We're leaving to avoid trouble and expulsion," she said in a low yet audible tone. "**We** don't want to lose our badges, so we'll be leaving with our badges and you'll be leaving with a slut," finished Hermione, grabbing Harry by the collar of his robes and starting to walk away.

"Draco!" screeched Lavender, staring at him unbelievingly. "You're going to let them get away with calling me that?!"

Hermione let go of Harry's robes and they both turned around.

Draco looked at her, his face slightly scrunching up in annoyance. He yanked his arm away from hers and stalked off into the Great hall, not once looking back.

The look on Lavender's face, Hermione figured priceless.

* * *

"That Malfoy gets me so fucking mad," said Harry as they walked mindlessly in the empty corridors. "But I guess he's got a reason for being an even greater ass today." 

Hermione looked at Harry in a confused expression. "Why do you say _that_?"

"Haven't you heard?" asked Harry, stopping to search through his book bag.

"Heard what?"

"About this," said Harry, and handed Hermione the morning's edition of the Daily Prophet.

**_TERROR IN SOUTHERN ENGLAND _**

_There has been yet another attack on behalf of the Dark Lord's followers yesterday afternoon in a restaurant located in the south of England, best known by the name of **Snail Tail**. At exactly 12:56 pm, a total of twelve Death Eaters charged into the restaurant, and slaughtered many of our kind. _

_  
"I was having lunch with a good friend and all of the sudden a bunch of figures in black hooded cloaks blast in through the entrance and **lasers** of green lights flash **everywhere**." _

_"I was with an old school friend under our table before they hit her..." _

_"M-my b-boyfriend was ab-bout to propose when they murdered him the good for nothing—" _

_"It was my grandma's favorite restaurant so we went every chance we could, and today they took my older brother-we were celebrating his obtaining a job. We were celebrating with my grandma and it all went wrong and—" _

_Unfortunately yesterday's attack caused many serious injuries and more than necessary deaths. Those deaths included: Alahna Finchfletchy, Janelle Garabaldi, Patricia Filtch, Gabriel Macoy, Chantal Ma'Flourel, Narcissa Malfoy, Catherina McDuff, Genelis Neopolito, Tunya Opressi, Fabiola Russel, Bambinell Trinity, Palistenu Vorgi, and Israel Zorello. All ironically spouses or close relatives of former Death Eaters. Others, including Ministry Official Dolores Umbridge, are now interned at St. Mungo's, where recovery is highly hoped. The reason why is still at large. Revenge, remorse, or plain spite? A very reliable source in the Ministry has **personally** told me that the best Aurors and investigators are at work on this dreadful case... _

Hermione stopped reading the article and looked at Harry as if he'd just murdered a puppy in front of her eyes. "What does this mean?" she breathed?

"It means that Malfoy's mother is dead," said Harry, taking the newspaper from her hands and back to its place in his book bag.

"B-but...he doesn't seem any different _today_," said Hermione.

"Those Slytherins will never show emotion, Hermione. They want to resemble robots I guess."

And just like that, Hermione remembered she had had an argument with Harry, and started to walk away from him.

"Hey hey hey! Where are you going?"

"**Away** from **you**, Potter."

'_Talk about mood swings.'_

"Okay so one second you're talking to me and the next you walk away. That makes sense," said Harry, speed walking to keep up with her.

"It's because I don't want to talk to you, simple as that."

Harry took hold of Hermione's arm and turned her around, taking a strong hold of her shoulders.

"Stop...being...a...bitch," he said, shaking her with every word.

Hermione pulled free and stared at him unbelievingly. "**You** quit being an **ass**!"

"How am **I** being an ass?!"

"Because of what you did yesterday!"

"Which was...?"

"Leave me to die with Zabini!"

"You didn't die!"

"And you guys don't even worry...don't even wait around or try and find me—"

"We **did** worry!"

"Not enough to try and find us!"

"They wouldn't let us!"

"And since when do **you** listen to what staff says?"

"Since I realized you are very capable of defending yourself."

"Well it worked swell, didn't it? I **only** got hit with an arrow—"

"And I worried! **You** just wanted me out of your room!"

"And **you** were just too willing!"

"Hermione there's no arguing with you! You won't even keep an open mind to see if the other person is right!"

"Because I don't argue for no reason like you do, Mr. '_Why don't we cancel tests? They are such a stress to our lives,'_" said Hermione sarcastically.

"Look Hermione. You're blowing this **way** out of proportion! Could you just relax and forget—"

"**And**," said Hermione, knowing that this would win her the case for sure. "You didn't tell me we had homework!"

"We had argued! It seemed like a good revenge method."

"Well so much for Valedictorian!"

"Don't be ridiculous, no one bothers themselves like you do about school."

"And now...thanks to you...it will all be for **nothing**!" yelled Hermione, sharply turning around and starting to stalk off.

"Hey...hey Hermione!" said Harry, and jogged to catch up to her. "Look, I'm **sorry**, okay? I should have told you we had—can you stop and listen to me for a moment?!"

Hermione stopped abruptly and looked at Harry sarcastically. "What?"

"I wanted to—"

"To **what** Harry? _Apologize_?"

Harry looked taken aback and slightly hurt. "Why are you being like this?"

"Because you can't take a hint when you're not wanted," said Hermione bluntly.

"Well thank you, Hermione," said Harry sarcastically. "Here I am trying to patch things up—"

"Well maybe I don't **want** things patched up! Maybe I'm sick and tired of you interrogating and getting your nose into things that don't concern you! Maybe I'm sick of you knowing everything about me! Maybe I want out!! Maybe I want **you** out of **my** life!" yelled Hermione, feeling the pang in her stomach as her own words sunk in.

Harry stared at her so blankly that his heartbroken feelings might as well have been written on the front page of the _Daily Prophet_.

But Hermione's pride was bigger and more powerful, and was determined to keep her expression in indignation.

Harry looked away from her and Hermione already felt the loss of those playful emerald eyes at night. The ones that could figure her out so quickly. In which during the years, had helped her recuperate from the deepest of fears, the deepest of boredom, and the deepest of depressions.

"I ah...didn't know you felt that way," he whispered.

Her mind was telling her to set things straight. To tell him that she had never had a friend as true, as fun, and as loyal as he. To scream to him **her** apology, to beg for forgiveness, to tell him that what she said wasn't what she felt...but her built up pride of always being right was stronger. Hermione Granger was never wrong, and she wasn't about to change that image.

"Yea? Well...n-now you do."

"Oh" he whispered even lower.

Harry gave a laugh and cleared his throat, obviously not knowing what to do or say.

He looked up at Hermione, a serious, determined, almost angry look in his eyes. "So that's it, huh? You don't want me in your life anymore?"

'_YES! I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'D DO WITHOUT YOU, HARRY!...TELL HIM, HERMIONE...TELL HIM!'_

Hermione stayed silent, looking everywhere but at Harry.

Thirty whole seconds must have passed by before an odd expression dawned on Harry's face.

_'Now I **know** Hermione doesn't mean that,_' thought Harry. _'Time to cut the drama...once again. I **always **hav to do **everything!**_'

He snorted and started laughing.

"What's so funny?" snapped Hermione.

"I-I'm sorry. It's just that we sound like those sad couples in soap operas."

Harry put a hand her arm and looked at her with sarcastic sympathy.

"It is quite obvious my dear Hermione Granger, that you are PMSing. It is how I have come to the conclusion that you really don't mean anything you say. It's just them female hormones working their magic again."

Hermione's jaw dropped. **How barbarically rude**!

He leaned over and gave her a kiss on her cheek. "I'll talk to you two weeks from now."

And with that, the great Harry Potter stalked off and left an extremely embarrassed Hermione blushing mad.

* * *

"Draco! Draco, I want to talk!" 

Draco turned around, a sneer plastered on his face. "What are **you** doing here? This is Slytherin. Go back to your little Gryffindor I'm tired," said Draco, and turned around to keep on walking.

"Draco, stop right there!" said Lavender, and reached out for his arm.

"**Don't** touch me," said Draco in disgust, but she held on tightly.

"What you did to me this morning was unfair! You didn't defend me, and you left me to walk into the Great Hall alone. You know what I'm going through to be with you! I lost most of my friends...respect—"

"You're telling me this like's it's my problem."

"It is!" squealed Lavender desperately. "Don't you get it?! I'm hated in my house, I've lost nearly all of my friends. Parvati hardly talks to me anymore...and I've given all of that up **just **to preserve our love!" she said, her grip tightening.

"Our **love**? Baby...you got everything mixed up."

"How so?" asked Lavender.

When Draco didn't say anything in response she continued in a tone that sounded like they were talking about the weather.

"You love me, right? I know you do. All those times we've made love, I know they meant something to you. Don't deny it, Draco," she said. "I know you love me as much as I love you. You don't realize it now, but give it time—"

"Look Brown. Before you get yourself confused in your little **fantasy** world, let's get one thing straight. I **don't** love you. I don't love anything for that matter...not you...not anyone."

"B-but...then how come I was your longest relationship? That has to mean **something**!"

He shrugged. "It does. You were the best lay so far. That's all."

"No! I wasn't **just** a good lay, Malfoy I was more! And you know it! You're just afraid of—"

"I'm not afraid of anything, Brown."

Lavender clenched her jaw and looked at Draco straight in the eye, absolutely determined to keep her cool.

"Then admit it," she said quietly. "Admit that you love me."

When Draco didn't utter a word, her eyes filled up with tears.

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes.

_Here we go again._

"You love me!" she croaked. "I know you do! I'm different from the other girls, and you love me for it," she whispered, and out of desperation, rushed and wrapped her arms around his waist in a one-way hug.

Absolutely disgusted, Draco shoved her away. "Come on Brown...you know it's not true. I hardly knew your name when we first fucked."

Lavender cringed at his last word. Her face scrunched up in pain and misery, as tears sprouted from her eyes.

"Why are you doing this to me?!" she sobbed miserably, a clenched fist lying condemningly on her chest. "What did I do wrong?!"

"Don't give me that noble sensitivity, _Lavender_. The only reason I was with you so long was because, well, you were good in bed. That's it. Sure you're _pretty_, and perfect measurements...but I'm tired. I don't love you, I never did. And you know what's pathetic?" laughed Draco. "Usually I had to sweet-talk the girls telling them stuff I don't really believe...but with you...I was cruel and you were still with me. **You **came to me. **You** were pathetic. Now if **you** don't mind, **I** have to go and get something from my dorm for Potions."

Draco started to walk away before a quiet and pained voice reached his ears...again.

"So it's over? Just like that? You're going to leave me just like that?!"

He smirked and turned around. "If it makes you feel any better...you were really great in bed."

"Bastard," she whispered, more tears falling out. She opened her mouth to say more, but a sob came out instead.

His smirk grew. "I'll see you around."

An even louder sob issued from Lavender. "Y-you can't just leave me like this!"

"I can...and I will," he answered easily.

She dropped her books and book bag to the cold dungeon floor and ran after him.

"Draco no! Wait! _Please_..._please_ don't go!"

He turned around. Lavender rushed into him and hugged him tightly.

"_Please_..." she whispered. "_I love you_. I'll do anything for you just please..._don't leave me_."

"If you don't—" started Draco, and began to pry Lavender off his body, "get off—"

"Draco no!" she sobbed, repeatedly yanking her arms and wrists away from his grip to cling onto him.

"Brown...you're...pathetic get...off!"

"**No**! Draco please, don't do this to me!" she cried as quietly as possible, burying her face into his chest while he held her wrists captive.

She began to sob repeatedly, so that she could no longer speak or breathe. She seemed desperate. So desperate it seemed her life depended on it.

Becoming savvy to her escape method, Draco took hold of her shoulders and pushed her away at arm's length.

Her face was tear streaked, red and her makeup was absolutely ruined. She looked miserable...like she had just witnessed her sister get brutally murdered.

"Brown...**get. A. Life.**"

Lavender looked into his powerful silver eyes as even more tears escaped. "**_Please_**," she begged, not being able to handle her own shame as she looked down at the floor.

Absolutely disgusted, Draco shoved her away. "Get yourself together and leave me alone. You've delayed me enough," he said with revulsion as he started to walk away.

"...**Don't**..." she said menacingly to his back. "**Don't** leave me here like this."

"...I already have," said Draco casually, and continued to walk down the dark and empty hall.

"You **coward!**" she yelled after him. "Don't do this! Don't do this to me! **Draco! DRACO!!**"

* * *

Hermione leaned against the dungeon wall, her books clutched tightly to her chest and her stare concentrating on her feet. 

The scene she had just witnessed had been so..._heartbreaking_. And that alone coming from her...regarding **Lavender**...meant a lot.

She had _really_ felt strongly about him...and Malfoy had just...**left her**. He didn't care one ounce what or how she felt. He didn't even **try** and make her feel any better...or put in nicer terms why he was leaving her...

He had just...**left her**.

...She felt..._awful._

But what she really felt was a blush creeping onto her cheeks and her stomach twisting in excitement. Malfoy was single...after so long! Compared to the other girls he'd been with, Lavender was his longest relationship.

**And how convenient that it was the day after yesterday night.**

When they had done nothing but held each other, despite the rivalry between them. Could it be that he left Lavender because of **her**?

Because he might have even grown to _fancy_ her?

'_Don't be rash!'_ thought Hermione angrily. '_Draco Malfoy will never like a girl like **you.** He likes girls with more than necessary amounts of body, and with beautiful facial features and...**hair**. And even if he did...like me,** which I highly doubt,** I don't like him! He's Draco Malfoy! Slytherin Prat, Prick, idiot, moron...**king**. And I'm a Gryffindor. The enemy of Slytherin. I **can't** fancy Draco Malfoy. And I don't!'_

"Eavesdropping?" came a deeply amused voice.

Hermione's head snapped up, so that her eyes met with the person she had just been thinking about, and so that all the color drained out of her face.

"Sheesh, Granger. You're as pale as paper," he commented, an amused smirk perfecting his graceful face.

Hermione looked at him horror-stricken. For a second, she had feared that he had heard what she had been thinking.

"Well, you gave me a fright. It's not _my_ fault I...paled," said Hermione stupidly, her stare once again falling to the floor

"So I guess you're the first to know that Brown and I are no longer..._together_."

Hermione's stare snapped up to meet his, indignation written all over her.

"The way you broke up with her was cruel, Malfoy. It was pure evil."

"Why thank you, Granger. I'll have to remember to return the complement to you someday."

"Don't be an idiot, Malfoy...it wasn't a complement."

"Then it was an oh-so-nice insult."

Hermione rolled her eyes and started to walk away. She loved this game.

And he did too.

"Hey...where are you headed?" he asked.

"Potions."

"Why are you walking so fast?"

"I'm not walking fast, you moron. You're just really slow."

And like so many other times, in a flash he had her pinned against the wall. This time though, he had done it almost playfully...though it caused her to drop her books.

Hermione gave a short squeal and cursed herself for it.

"Malfoy, unhand me at once," she said firmly.

Draco, playful smirk on his face, took his hands off her, but pressed his body against hers in a way where his face and the wall were centimeters apart.

Her breathing quickened, just like her heartbeat. She had never known anything that felt better than having Draco Malfoy's body pressed against hers.

"Malfoy, get off," she said.

"Make me."

Hermione struggled with all her might to get him off her...but he hardly moved. She pushed and shoved some more, her efforts causing her to bang her back against the wall behind her, her hair to become absolutely messy, and her arms to become incredibly tired.

With the sudden movement put upon his body...by Hermione...Draco feared that his _manhood_ would react, and before that happened, he had to do something.

Hermione felt his strong hands on her shoulders put a stop to her effortless antics and hold her against the wall.

His head lowered itself to her ear. "You can't escape me, Hermione," he whispered. "Don't deny it."

**When** he had started to call her by her first name, he didn't know. What he did know was that he had never felt so comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time in his life.

He pulled back slightly to look at her. She wasn't looking at him though. But he found the way her hair was disheveled to be of absolute beauty. How her breathing was so hard from her struggle, how her cheeks were rosy from the exercise, and how she surrendered by leaning casually against the wall made his mind freeze.

Hermione slowly looked up, part of her ponytail/bun was in her face, her eyes vulnerable.

She bit her bottom lip and she felt the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. His eyes were gazing into hers, unmoving as if afraid that if he looked away, she'd be gone.

'_She's...**beautiful?** I don't know how I never saw it before.'_

The bell rang in the distance, and Hermione knew she was late. Draco Malfoy knew he was late. And somewhere in the puddle of tears at the Hospital Wing, Lavender Brown knew she wasn't attending class.

Draco stepped away from Hermione, and looked down either end of the hall. After seeing no one in sight, he looked back at Hermione...a mischievous smirk on his face.

She could feel her heart beat faster and faster, her breathing become shorter.

He was walking towards her; his eyes traveling painfully down her body and back up again.

Hermione stepped back as far as possible, seeing as she had already been against the wall.

He cupped her right cheek and would have brought his lips to meet with hers, but she turned away.

"What's wrong?" he asked in that deep, low voice of his.

Hermione felt his hand push a strand of hair away from her face.

His head bent down till his lips ghosted over hers, and Hermione unconsciously pushed herself closer to him.

He looked so gorgeous. Even with the little light available in the dungeons, she was able to see his perfect facial features and his stunning silver eyes. His broad and masculine form, and his lips.

She took in a deep intake of breath, not sudden enough to be a gasp, but audible nonetheless. His eyes marveled at her lips, before he bent to captured them...

But Hermione had put up her hand so that her four fingers came between their lips, and he slightly drew back in surprise. Not because she had interrupted the kiss...but because she had raised her hand and it wasn't to slap him.

"Don't do this," she whispered, and reluctantly squirmed out of the tight spot she had been in.

"Do what?" asked Draco, still looking at the blank spot where Hermione had once been. He turned around to see Hermione's small frame only a few feet away from him. "What we've been doing the whole time since the beginning of the year?"

Guilt and shame flashed through Hermione's eyes, and Draco saw it as well.

'_How dare she always fucking interrupt what I'm about to do? Who the hell does she figure she is?!'_

Perhaps it was the fact that he had wanted to kiss her for a long time now that got him so angry and determined to get Hermione back. To make her pay her teasing and his pain with self disgrace.

"Why stop now, Granger? You were able to do it before...and very well might I add."

"Shut up," said Hermione. "Don't utter another—"

"I mean...sure you told me to get away, but how could I take you seriously if you always kissed me back? If you always gave in—"

"No Malfoy," said Hermione sharply.

"Yes, Hermione," he said just as sharply.

"That's one thing I haven't and will **never** do."

"You sound so sure, but you don't seem to realize that you have already—"

"Giving in is going to bed with you. I **don't** plan on doing that any time soon."

Draco was about to say something in return when the last line finally registered in his head. He couldn't help the chuckle that issued from him seconds later.

Hermione fumed.

That was the second time that had happened to her in one day. There she was, having a good time arguing her point of view so that her opponent laughs?! No! That was not how it happened on television! These men were **so** killing the mood.

Draco's chuckle slowly became teasing laughter. He wasn't laughing hard, but he was looking at her in a way that just screamed he thought she was stupid.

"May I ask...**Mr. Malfoy** what is so funny?"

"No you may not," said Draco, trying to take off the smile from his face.

He was even more beautiful when he smiled.

'_Aarrgghh! Focus!!'_

"Tell me, Hermione. Does it bother you that I laugh?"

"Extremely," said Hermione through a clenched jaw.

Draco shook his head sympathetically. "You're so naïve."

That had been the last straw. Hermione Granger had gone through so many life-threatening situations in her life and had seen so much...and **she** was naïve?

"Don't get mad."

_What the...? How? Did he...?_

"It's not that I could read minds, Granger. It's just that I know you that well."

"Malfoy you don't know anything about me," said Hermione angrily.

Draco smirked teasingly. "Come on, Hermione. You can't get any more predictable."

And just like that, Hermione remembered her argument with Ron at his house. How he claimed she was always predictably boring and how she warned him that one day she'd do something **so** unpredictable he'd wish he'd never said that.

And then she remembered last night.

When she was about to kiss him but decided that it wasn't the right time.

Before she could consider it, a great surge of excitement raced through her veins and she placed her hands on his chest, took hold of Draco's robes and pushed him against the wall.

To say he was shocked was as much of an understatement as saying it's _chilly_ in Antarctica. To begin with, no one had ever caught him by surprise like she just had. At least not enough to get him up against a wall!

To say he was turned on was quite accurate though. The fact that she had gone from mad to furious to sexily slamming him against the wall...

"What are you doing?" he managed to whisper.

Her eyes locked with his and full of such determination that it **almost** frightened him, she took a deep breath. "Shut. Up."

"...what?..."

Hermione quickly and unconsciously licked her lips, which made Draco stiffen all the more.

"This'll show you unpredictable," said Hermione, and slowly went on her tiptoes.

Closer.

Closer.

Inches apart...centimeters apart...

She loosened her grip on his robes and he leaned forward as well.

And Hermione Granger had never in her life thought that she'd be kissing Draco Malfoy...but she was.

**She** captured **his** lips...

_Gently_.

Their heads were spinning in absolute exhilaration as Draco slowly made his hands at home at the curves of her waist, pushing her, closer to him.

Her hands took hold of his neck, as their lips caressed each other's. This wasn't like any of the other kisses they've had...which were quite the few. It was gentle and sweet, opposed to the rough and demanding ones.

Hermione's head was spinning uncontrollably. If there was anything sexier than a bad boy kissing you back softly, she couldn't remember it. His lips were so tender and so graceful, she felt ready to explode.

Draco's tongue begged entrance and Hermione allowed it, welcoming it with hers.

And the kiss was still soft.

Draco couldn't even think. It had to be, by far, the best and most confusing kiss he had ever had.

'_Who knew such a simple kiss could bring so much...feeling?'_

Well...to begin with he had never been kissed. **He** had always kissed **them**. And his kisses were usually aggressive and fast.

'_How come her kisses are so soft?'_

Their lips cradled each other's. Hermione already back on her full feet, and Draco crouched somewhat a good deal, he cupped her face gently before trying to make the kiss passionate once again.

She hadn't expected to kiss him that long. Just a tap kiss was good enough to prove that she wasn't all that predictable.

Why did she want to prove that anyways? So what if she was predictable? It didn't mean she was any worse off than others who aren't.

She shouldn't be kissing Draco Malfoy. No matter how handsome...how tasty his lips were...how gentle this kiss was...it was still not a good thing to do.

Especially if you're a Gryffindor...and he's a Slytherin.

But she had to end it in a way that wouldn't make it look like she had changed her mind. She had to make it seem like she had planned it all along.

Hermione withdrew from the kiss in a very sudden way, her hand on Draco's chest to stop him from following.

She smirked.

And it was that smirk that stopped Draco from saying **anything** at all. He had never seen her smirk before.

"How's that for predictable, Malfoy?" she spat.

Silence. He was studying her. His keen gray eyes searching hers for hidden meaning and emotion.

"I congratulate you, Granger. You're the first and hopefully last person that has ever caught me by surprise like that."

Hermione stayed quiet.

He had gone back to Granger. What did that mean? And the way he said what he did...was it a complement or...

_Disappointment_?

"I knew you were going to do something to prove me wrong. To prove that you weren't so predictable. But I was expecting you to rip a book apart or something. **Never** had I expected you to..." he seemed to think that the right words could be found in the ceiling. "**Kiss me**."

Something didn't feel right. Hermione regretted what she had done. Did he think her a hoe? Slut? Did he think her easy?

'_For heaven's sake, Hermione! You kissed him, you didn't **sleep** with him!!!'_

Why did she care anyways?

Draco looked at Hermione, who was searching the floor for answers. He inwardly smiled at how childishly innocent she looked.

Draco stepped away from the wall, causing Hermione to look up from the floor.

He looked gorgeous.

"It seems to me, Hermione," said Draco in a low, manly voice. "That my habits are rubbing off on you."

He pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear, his face following his hand as he bent to whisper seductively. "And I can't deny that I rather like it."

Hermione's eyes fluttered shut. She hated the effect he had on her, but she couldn't help it. His breath against her skin...his lips nearly touching her ear...teasing her he was.

Hermione's hand was still against his chest, but it held no force whatsoever as Draco bent lower to kiss her neck.

The moment was so odd and special that Draco felt the necessity to do something..._unpredictable_. Such a surge went through him that out of nowhere, he whispered: "Thank you."

"F-for what?"

"For yesterday."

"What about yesterday?"

"It felt really good holding you and being held," said Draco. He removed himself from her ear and looked straight into her eyes.

**Talk about unpredictable. **Hermione had a very strong feeling they were going to exchange saliva again.

"I know," she whispered, and her eyes closed as Draco bent to kiss her again.

Except it never happened.

"_Well, well, **well**_. It looks like I'm not the only one late for class."

They both sprung apart, Hermione (looking mortified) rushed to pick up her books, and Draco looking seriously upset at being interrupted.

"I'm sorry...am I _barging in_ on something?"

"Yes you kind of are, Zabini," said Draco, giving Blaise a meaningful glance.

"No!" said Hermione quickly, books in hand and already back to her "floor spot" quite the distance away from Draco. "N-no you're not. Absolutely _nothing_ is going on here."

Blaise smirked. "Granger I **didn't** think you the type."

Hermione stiffened. "Think me the type of what?"

"I thought I _meant_ something to you," said Blaise mockingly.

"**What**?!"

"Surely you can't forget what happened yesterday, right Granger? You know...you...and me...alone in the Dark-I mean- Forbidden Forest?"

"_Excuse me?!_ **Nothing** happened between you and **me**," said Hermione, getting a better hold of her book bag and a better grip on her books.

"But here you are," continued Blaise, that sarcastic expression performing wonders on his features. "Cheating on me with my best mate."

"I was **not** cheating on **anyone**!"

"Oh so now you think I'm a no one?"

"No I don't!"

"So I'm a someone?"

"...Yea you're a someone."

"So that's all I am? Just some**one**?"

"No...Yea..."

"Am I **someone **to you?"

"Just because you're _someone _doesn't mean you're **anybody** to me."

"So you're saying I'm a worthless piece of shit."

"Blaise!" interrupted Draco. "Are you done? Cause I'm kind of busy here."

Hermione's head snapped to look at Draco. "No you're not. And if you boys will excuse me...I'm late for class," said Hermione.

She turned around and sped-walked out of view as she turned the corridor.

There was a silence after she left, which was eventually broken by none other than Blaise Zabini.

"Well," he sighed. "Looks like I've underestimated your powerful charm _maestro_."

When Draco did not respond, Blaise continued. "Or perhaps I **overestimated**."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that it's possible that I thought Granger to be super-strong. Looks like she's **not** so resistant after all."

"Yes she is," responded Draco. "Just not when it comes to me."

"I must admit," said Blaise, casually crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. "I'm impressed, Draco."

Draco avoided eyecontact. Something didn't feel right. His stomache was twisting in...**guilt**.

"What's wrong, Draco ole man?" asked Blaise, in a tone that was genuinely curious. "Surely your head's getting all gassed up with self-satisfaction."

Silence. Draco was thinking along the same lines.

Blaise stepped away from the wall and walked up to Draco. Something about him was out of character.

"Draco," he said in a low and deadly serious tone. He put his hand on Draco's shoulder so as to force eye contact. "Is she getting to you? Remember, this bet is so that she falls in love with **you**, not **you** with **her**."

"Don't be an idiot, Blaise. Granger hasn't gotten to me."

"But is she **getting** to you?" asked Blaise.

Draco looked away. "Of course not. The sooner this bet is over...the better."

Blaise seemed satisfied with Draco's answer, and retrieved his hand from his shoulder.

"Good. Us Slytherins can't afford to fall in love with a Gryffindor. _Especially_ **that** Gryffindor."

Draco looked his hand...his shoes...the ceiling...the floor...anywhere but Blaise's eyes.

Blaise noticed this.

"She **is** getting to you!"

Draco snorted. "Who? That control freak? You can rest assure that I will _not_ fall in love with my enemy's best friend."

"So she's not an enemy anymore? She's just your enemy's best friend?"

"Enemy...enemy's best friend—same crap!"

"So long as you don't go easy on her, mate, it's all good with me."

"Come on. I'm Draco Malfoy...I don't go easy one anyone."

* * *

"Miss Granger, an explanation if you may?" 

"Sorry professor," mumbled Hermione and started to make her way to her seat.

"_Sorry_, Miss Granger, is **not** an explanation. Where were you and what were you doing that seems to be more important than getting to class on time?"

Hermione froze. She had not had the clear mind to think up of an excuse on her way.

She looked at her vacant seat. How she longed to be sitting there...the spotlight on Snape...anywhere but her.

She looked at the seat next to hers. Harry occupied that seat, who was seriously sympathizing her. Regardless of their argument this morning—

It all happened quickly. Hermione had remembered the argument, how it ended, an excuse! At last! She has an excuse!

"I was at the lavatory, Professor Snape."

"Pardon?"

"I was at the lavatory, professor."

The Slytherins snickered, but Hermione couldn't care less. She rather them think that she had a serious case of diarrhea than to know that she was kissing Malfoy.

"Um, professor," said Harry, who was trying to prevent a smile from forming on his lips. "I don't think this inquiry should ask for further details. I mean, _every_ female goes through it—"

"Harry!"

It seemed to be a law of life that your closest friend did things like that. But maybe it was better that they think it was her week rather than a stomach virus.

Everyone started to laugh. No it was just the Slytherins and Harry. It was times like these that made Hermione really consider whether Harry really did belong in Slytherin rather than in Gryffindor.

The door opened behind her, and everyone became silent. Harry sneered in disgust.

"Mr. Malfoy...Mr. Zabini..."

The class was silent. Slytherins stared at awe at their King and Prince, looking so sure and confident.

"...take your seats."

Powerful and triumphant smirks on their faces, they both pushed Hermione out of their way. Draco in a more teasing manner that caused Hermione to blush, and Blaise in an absolutely impatient shove.

Hermione made to start for her seat, but was scolded at once again.

"Miss Granger I don't recall telling you to take your seat."

"But—"

"Fifteen points from Gryffindor if you say another word."

"That's not fair professor," said a voice in the back of the room. Simultaneously all heads turned to Seamus.

"You don't give Malfoy or Zabini any trouble for coming in late but you're giving Hermione here a hassle."

"**That** is because these two gentleman were running an errand for me. Miss Granger however—"

"They were not!"

"Fifteen points from Gryffindor!"

"You **liar**! They were on **no errand** for you whatsoever!"

Jaws dropped all around the room, gasps of surprise and shock reined over silence and all eyes were now on Snape.

_Maybe her week **was** coming up._

"_Pardon_?" asked Professor Snape delicately murderous. "Are you calling me a liar?"

Hermione seemed to catch herself in her own rashness, and swallowed her response.

"Take a seat Miss Granger. I'll talk to you after class."

* * *

The next day Hermione Granger was the absolute heroine of all Gryffindor. For once Hermione was center attention. 

"I didn't know you had it in you, Hermione!" exclaimed Ron. "I swear, you were bloody brilliant!"

"Honest, guys...I didn't mean to explode like that."

"But the thing is that you **did**," said Dean. "And you getting all hot and bothered like that brought out the _beast _in you."

"We've seen the beast in Hermione before," said Harry. "The thing is that this time it was launched at Snape!"

"Here, here!"

Students from other houses would complement her any way they could.

"Hey, I like you're...uh...hair today. It's very chic."

"_Flobberworms and their Contributions to Our World_...I heard that was a good book."

"You look so pretty today! I love how that book bag complements your eyes."

"Those books complement your female posture. It uh...makes you look elegant and smart."

"You look so nice—I mean—you **are** so nice...not that you don't look nice...just that you _are_ nice.........I've got to go."

Yes. The complements just drowned Hermione today, Harry having a good laugh at each one.

"Why are you laughing?"

"No reason." He really did not have the heart to tell her that the complements were made up. That they couldn't find anything else so they complemented her..._books_. Now Harry was mean...so **some** extent.

But someone did have the heart to tell her straight to her face. Her good old friend Ginny Weasley.

At lunch, while Hermione was merrily chewing on her potatoes, Ginny stormed right up to her and swore that she was going to do something so that the students of Hogwarts **had** something to complement her on.

Disregarding Hermione's protests that the lunch period had just started, Ginny dragged her back to Gryffindor and to her dormitory.

"Ginny if you're thinking of a movie-like makeover...it's not going to work."

"Of course not," said Ginny snappily. "What are movies anyway?"

When Hermione did not respond, she continued. "I only have 45 minutes left. And a full makeover with you as a subject will take me a good 3-5 hours."

"Thanks."

"What I **am** going to do is **tell** you what you could possibly do for tomorrow morning. With your hair."

Hermione took a strand of her own hair and examined it. Whatever Ginny was planning on telling her it was highly doubted would work.

"Ginny you're honestly wasting our time. I'm pretty sure you're as hungry as I am and we both know whatever you're looking for is not going to help my hair."

"I'm not looking for hair products," said Ginny as she flung contents from her trunk over her shoulder. "I'm looking for makeup."

Hermione's eyes widened. "What? I'm not putting on any makeup! What's the occasion, anyway?"

"Attention. That's the occasion. Sheesh, what is **up** with you? Honestly who plans on being the hero of their house without planning what you're going to look like the next day? Only you Hermione. Only you."

"...It's heroine."

"Same difference."

"Come on Ginny, there's no point in trying to make me look beautiful. It's never going to work," said Hermione slightly put down.

She left the room unnoticed, and her lunch was less enjoyable than what it had started out to be.

* * *

Hermione entered the Head's Common Room, head down and eyes dim. 

**It really sucked being ugly.**

She plopped down on the couch in the fire-lit common room, and as secretly as possible self-examined herself.

Bony, bushy hair, flat-chested, no theighs...not enough to be attractive anyway...the list could go on.

She thought about girls like Parvati, Pansy, Catherine Zunille, Lavender...all the drop-dead-gorgeous girls. They were so lucky. If she had _half _of their beauty, she'd be very happy.

But it was not going to happen.

She always pretended that she didn't care...and most of the time she didn't. What good would looks do her? She rather be smart than pretty. But still...she'd wish she were _somewhat_ good-looking.

She pulled herself up. The day had started out so good, and all of the sudden Ginny had made her see that all those complements were fake and mocking. Once again Hermione Granger was reminded that she wasn't exactly pretty.

She opened the door to her room, and closed it behind her.

"Hey Hermione!"

She jumped and caught sight of Harry sitting on a seat at the far end of the room. "What the hell are you doing in my room, Harry?!"

"I was about to ask you the same thing...except I would have used Hermione rather than Harry."

Hermione looked at Harry as if he were mentally insane.

He sighed. "You're in **my** room."

She looked around. He was right, and this was embarrassing.

"What's wrong?" he asked in a fatherly way.

_I'm ugly, that's what's wrong!_

"Nothing," she responded and made for the door. "Sorry for barging in."

"Don't make me run after you cause you know I'll win. Stay and tell me what's on your mind."

She felt it. The knot in her throat.

_Don't, Hermione. Don't cry! It's for a pathetic reason...keep it in...keep it in!_

"I'm serious it's nothing important."

"Turn around and tell it to my face."

_Why does he always do this to me!! It's not fair! Can't he let me deal with my troubles on my own!!_

"See now I know something's up. And now you're not leaving till you tell me and I knock some sense into whoever made you feel like shit on your day."

"My day?" asked Hermione, turning to face him walking up to her.

"Yea. Today...the day where everyone tries to talk to you and all that."

"It's nothing to do with that, Harry. Honest, it's pointless."

Harry walked past Hermione and stopped in front of the door so as to block her way.

"What is it? You know no problem of yours is ever worthless to me."

"It's really really really stupid."

"And I really really **really** want to hear it."

Hermione gave in. If she wanted to go to bed anytime soon, she'd have to tell him. He'd find out anyway.

She sighed dreadfully and gave Harry her back so that she could walk to his bed. Hermione plopped down, leaning against the headboard...Harry followed and sat next to her.

"It's just that..."her breathing started to quiver. "When I think of Parvati and **Lavender **and Pansy Parkinson...I mean...they're so pretty and I'm just..."

Oh no. It was happeneing. She felt the first tear escape her eye.

She let out a short breath and allowed more tears to shower her face. She couldn't help it...and she couldn't speak any more. She'd sound medically ill.

"Hey hey," whispered Harry. "Why are you crying? Come on don't cry. Not for **that**."

Hermione breathed deeply, her nose incredibly stuffy. "What would you know, Harry? You're not ugly. You've got all the girls you could possibly ever want. You catch their eye a-and win their hearts...what would you know?" she whispered.

"First of all...I don't get all the girls I want.. That's Malfoy. Unfortunately. And I would know very much because incase you forgot...I wasn't always the sexy player I am today."

Hermione laughed. Harry had succeeded.

He put an arm around Hermione and gave her a quick shove towards him. "Come on. Lighten up."

"But—"

"So you're not a 36-24-36, and you don't have Rupunzel-like hair. That doesn't mean you're ugly. If you **were **like that I would have raped you long ago."

She laughed again. Another victory.

"Just because your beauty doesn't make guys trip over their own feet doesn't mean it's not there. It just means they have to look harder."

Hermione looked up at Harry, who gave her a quick wink and a kiss on the cheek.

"Beauty is only skin deep, remember that."

Her arms wrapped around his waist and held on tightly.

"Oh and Hermione?"

"Yea?"

"This never happened."

"Of course not."

* * *

AN: I know you are all sooo upset at me! BLAME SCHOOL! I start at 11:16 and finish at 5:30. I have afterschool so I get home from 8-9PM!!! HAve mercy. 

I know alot of people reviewed for the last chapter, and asked questions. To the author of Slytherins and Mudbloods: I'D BE HONORED!!!

I swear I wrote a whole paper full of answers...but I lost it. If you still have questions just e-mail me at RiskyLatina11390 (at) with subject title: "Chapter 14".

The only thing that had me up the whole time writing all of this whenever I could and skipping out on social life were the reviews. So please: REVIEW!!!!!

I CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT YOUR REVIEWS!!!

Oh and by the way, the reviews for the last chapters...man...did they make me giddy. I was soooo happy and sooo ECSTATIC about them all.

EVERY SINGLE ONE!!!!

Please please please! Review! AND...there seems to be a diversity between Blaise and Draco for favorite character. Everybody loves bad-ass Draco...but WE ALL LOVE SMART-ASS ZABINI!!!

And yes, I know I changed the title and chapter. I decided to leave that for later. Probably next chapter. But I seriously wanted to portray that THIS Hermione isn't DROP DEAD GORGEOUS out of nowhere. It annoys me that so many fics do that.

You know...not every girls is movie-like-beautiful!!So yes, I just wanted our female readers to be able to relate to Hermione more...cause we're not perfect.

AND she's getting a bit more aggressive ;) ....UGH! Look at me chatting on and on!

Just please! **REVIEW**!!!!! PLEASE!


	16. The Insecurity of Hermione Granger

**Chapter Sixteen: The Insecurity of Hermione Granger **

"Harry this could get serious."

"Great analysis Ron, want a cookie?"

"Harry you know what his could lead to, and I wouldn't be surprised if by the end of the year we end up in a life-and-death situation again."

"Ron—"

"Don't tell me you haven't noticed our odd little pattern. By the end of every year we end up in—"

"Deep shit. Yea, I've noticed."

Ron scratched his head, a delicate ray of moonlight that had escaped through the high Owlery window lighting up only half his face.

"So I don't get it Harry."

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, turning away from Ron and beginning to walk back to the castle. "So what else is new?"

"Listen Harry. Just because he's dead doesn't mean that his followers are. They are as much danger as they ever were."

"So you and every other breathing wizard on earth have said. Look Ron, I know you worry for me, but I can handle threatening letters."

"But they're not just threats Harry. These guys are the real deal. You don't just barge in, curse them out for cussing you out and then expect to live."

"…Where the hell did that come from?"

"From a worried mate. Please Harry…tell someone. Tell Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape even! Just tell **someone**!"

"Fine I'll tell Hermione."

"No not Hermione! That should be the last person we should tell."

"Why?"

"Because…she'll hassle you—"

"You mean like you are right now?"

"Yes…no, wait."

Harry laughed, pushing the doors to the owlery open and walking out.

"Look, as of right now, I'm not worrying," said Harry.

"Harry what's gotten into you! Don't you see what those letters say?"

"Yes I've read them all. I half wish—"

"Then how can you not be worried? Are you feeling alright?"

Harry sighed. "I'm feeling fine Ron. Whatever happens, happens…I can't say that I—"

"How can you just say that! _Whatever happens, happens_. Are you mad!"

"No Ron. I'm just—."

"Then **please** explain what the hell is going on here! Don't tell me these letters don't disturb you."

"Fine, I won't."

"Not even a little?"

"No."

"How come?"

"That's something I can't explain. They just…don't."

* * *

'_Harry seriously needs to stop taking my sweaters'_ thought Hermione as she looked through her cabinets for a sweater.

It was getting colder and colder everyday. Of course that might be because winter was on its way. Or was it already here?

Oh what did it matter? Hermione needed to find a sweater so that she could concentrate on her homework and stop thinking about a blonde Slytherin.

**Not** that he was occupying her mind much. He just invaded her thoughts every now and then.

Was she falling for him? Was she seriously going to pay any mind to the one major torment in her educational career? Looks like a yes.

No it couldn't be a yes. She might have liked the way he kissed and the way he looked, but that was as far as it went. What had happened that night out on the grounds was a sheer miracle.

Sighing, she made her way to her closet. Nothing.

"Jesus Harry, it's not like Mrs. Weasley stopped giving you a sweater every Christmas!"

Frustrated, Hermione stalked out of her room and made her way down the stairs to Harry's room, ready to yell at him for taking yet another of her sweaters and not returning it.

She marched up the stairs like a spoiled brat who didn't get what she wanted for the Holidays; and with the power of her index finger's knuckle, she knocked on his door.

No answer. So Hermione knocked harder.

"Harry, open the door."

"It's open," came the nonchalant answer.

Hermione turned the knob and walked in, closing the door behind her.

"Where are my sweaters? You always take them and—"

"They're right over there," said Harry, lazily pointing to his closet as he sat on the corner chair.

Hermione gave one last meaningful glance at Harry before marching to his closet, sliding the door open and seeing the full collection of her sweaters neatly hanging in order. That was a first.

Slightly suspicious, Hermione takes each and every one of her sweaters off the hangers and looks at Harry.

"Is everything alright?"

He seemed to snap out of a daze and looked at her suddenly. "Yes…yes I'm fine."

"Are you sure? I mean," said Hermione and looked around the room. "Your dormitory's…neat."

He shrugged, "I got in the cleaning mood."

He looked tired. He looked old. His eyes lost that mischief in them, and he simply looked depressed. He sighed and leaned on the arm of the chair, rubbing his forehead and then moving down to his eyes before he let his hand slide down the rest of his face.

"Is everything alright with Zunille?"

"Yea. I broke up with her earlier today."

"What happened?"

"I was bored and felt like doing something. The usual Slytherin routine."

"_Harry_." exclaimed Hermione, half shocked and half disgusted. "You sound like just about every other guy you claimed you were not."

He just shrugged. "Hey what can I say? I'm not any better than they are when it comes to girls."

"Yes you are. I…I…" she tossed the sweaters that had all been hanging on one arm onto the bed. "I can't believe you just said that! You took pride in treating girls far better than men like M-Malfoy. Malfoy's an ass with good looks, you've always said so!"

"Whatever," said Harry, getting up and making his way to the bathroom.

Hermione took hold of his elbow as he passed by. "What the hell is going on?" she demanded.

He snatched his elbow out of her grip with such force that he nearly pulled her off of her feet.

Her eyes wide and unbelieving, she stared at her best friend, and he glared back.

"What on earth was that about?"

"Look, I appreciate the concern but if you don't mind I'd very much like to be alone at the moment."

"Harry—"

"Gosh Hermione, go fuck Boot or something!" he snapped. "Take your damned sweaters" he said, pushing past Hermione to take hold of the sweaters on his bed, "and have some fun."

He shoved them into her arms, walked to the door and opened it for her.

"Do anything you feel like doing so long as you leave me alone."

"What is wrong with you, Harry? You're not like this. You're not like this at **all**."

"Stop pretending to care and go to **your** room. Read some books. Do homework. Study. Anything just bother someone else would you?"

"No. No I won't. Something's the matter and I'm not leaving till you tell me."

"Hermione…**out**."

"Harry! What's up with you? The mischievous one out of all of us. The clown. The happy-go-lucky the—"

"**The one that wants to be alone**!" yelled Harry. "Can't you understand that! You're smart Hermione, you know what alone means!"

He was glaring at her with every bit of possible anger within him, his jaw clenched.

Hermione didn't ever remember a time when Harry had yelled at her. Surely they had yelled and screamed at each other before, but that was due to pathetically childish bickering.

Slightly taken aback from the outburst, she responded in a soft-spoken voice: "Of course I know what **alone** means."

"Then do me the favor, and get out," said Harry.

"No."

"Yes."

"Not until you tell me what's wrong."

He lost his patience.

"**JESUS HERMIONE, NOTHING'S WRONG**!"

"Don't you yell at me!" roared Hermione. "Don't you **dare** yell at me, Harry! All I'm doing is trying to help!"

"Well you can stop trying because you're obviously not succeeding!"

"I'm trying to figure out what's happened that's gotten you so rude!"

"**You**, Hermione, you! I wasn't screaming and yelling before **you** came, I was quiet!"

"You were sad!" yelled Hermione, pointing at him with a fully open hand.

"I was **fine**!" yelled Harry back, pushing the door away from him so that it slammed shut.

"You were _lying_."

"I was not!"

"You were too and you are now!"

"I am not!"

"_Liar_!" yelled Hermione, throwing her own sweaters to the floor. "You're nothing but a filthy liar! I don't know why you don't want to tell me what's going on but just like you always find out about me I'll find out about you!"

"Get out!" yelled Harry, fiercely pointing to the door.

"**No.**"

"Out!" he yelled again, flinging his arm to once again point to the exit.

"Damn it, you good-for-nothing, ball-lacking _bastard_, I'm staying here till you spill the beans and that is **that**!"

A moment of silence.

Harry's mouth opened, and closed again. A weird sound would come out of his mouth the next two times that he repeated this procedure, till he was finally able think straight.

A lopsided smile slowly and painfully grew on his face; his head down he looked at Hermione, and then sighed.

He rubbed his face as he walked past a tense Hermione, who honestly expected another outburst.

He sat on his chair again and buried his face in his hands, each elbow on a different armrest.

"Hermione there is so much going on that you don't know," whispered Harry.

Hermione stepped over her sweaters and walked to Harry, bending so that they were both at eyelevel.

She placed her hands on his knees, an act that forced Harry to look at her.

"Why don't you tell me, Harry? I swear I thought I knew everything that went on in your life."

"It's not what's going on, really. It's more like how I'm reacting to it. It's scaring a lot of people."

"It sure scared me how you were yelling at me back there."

Harry looked at her with rueful eyes. "It scared me too."

* * *

"I don't know why you bother with homework, Goyle. It really does you no good seeing as you absorb nothing but food," said Blaise, lying on his bed with his hands folded behind his head.

"Shut up, Zabini. Nobody asked you."

Blaise smiled that wicked smile of his and sat up.

"Have any of you seen Draco?"

"Afraid not, Blaise," said Crabbe. "Last I saw of him was potions earlier today."

"Which reminds me," said Goyle. "How about that little show Granger gave us at Potions two days ago? That was _something_ wasn't it?"

"Sure was," agreed Crabbe. "When have you ever seen Granger fight with a professor?"

"I thought that the day she'd do that is the day that she'd drop out of Hogwarts."

"Now boys, that's an absolute exaggeration," said Blaise, getting up from his bed to lean against his bedpost. "We are all very familiar with both Granger's aggressive temper and her loyalty to Potter. If she was going to mouth off to a professor it was definitely going to be Snape."

"That makes sense," said Goyle.

"Of course it does…I said it."

"Are you familiar with any school activities coming up?" asked Crabbe.

"There's a Hogsmead weekend, but that's all I know about," said Goyle.

"Because that's all there is," said Blaise, pushing himself off his bedpost and walking over to the closet to get his cloak.

"Where you headed?" asked Crabbe.

"Out."

"Well seeing that you have your cloak on, I do believe that is expected."

"Don't get sarcastic Goyle, that's my job."

"Sorry," mumbled Goyle and turned back to his work.

"Not that it's any of my business, but I don't suggest you go looking for Draco," said Crabbe.

Blaise, who was in the process of wrapping a scarf around his neck stopped for a moment.

"Why not?"

"Well seeing as Mrs. Malfoy has passed away he might just **want** to be alone."

Blaise finished wrapping the scarf around his neck and placed the rest neatly in his cloak before closing it.

"Well that's all good and jolly but I'm on my way to meet up with some girl."

"What house?"

"Forgot."

"Name?"

"Don't care."

"Body?"

"8 out of 10."

"Worth your time?"

The door to the dormitory opened and a blonde Slytherin entered the dormitory. He looked about the room till his eyes found Blaise.

"I've been looking for you Zabini."

"Don't I feel special."

"Some people have been asking for you, I'm not sure what they want."

"Are they—"

"They're all males."

"Oh dear. Don't tell me I'm attracting men too," said Blaise, and quickly turned the bureau to examine himself. "I'm just too handsome for my own good."

"Shut up Zabini, they're not a fan club," said Draco.

He closed the door behind him, walked over to his bed where he took off his school robe, flung it onto the mattress, and folded up his sleeves. The typical scholar look.

"So what are they like?"

"A mob," said Draco, taking out his wand from his robes and analyzing it.

"Oh?" said Blaise, as if they were merely talking about the weather.

He too started to take off his cloak, scarf, and his robe, throwing it on his bed as he rolled his sleeves and checked for his wand in his back pocket.

"Look I'm not sure about you," said Draco, his arms open as if he were offering the best deal in the world. "But I'm in a mood for a duel."

"When aren't you, mate?"

"All I'm saying is if it's a duel they want—"

"Then it's a duel they'll get!" said Blaise, a wide smile on his face.

"Does it _look_ like they want to fight?" asked Goyle, already getting up and getting ready to go.

"We appreciate the backup, Vinny," said Blaise. "But I don't think we'll need it."

"You guys sure?" asked Crabbe, also up.

"Positive," said Draco.

He looked at Blaise, smirked, and led the way.

* * *

"I can't believe Ron told you not to tell me," said Hermione, who was lying down on the bed with her feet up against the headboard.

"Why not?" asked Harry, who was laying across the foot of the bed.

"Because…I thought we told each other everything. All three of us."

"You don't tell Ron everything."

"So?"

"So the only thing all **three** of us share is _my_ life."

"We used to share everything about everything."

"The only things _you_ shared with us were your grades and how we should follow your example. That and stuff you learned. Besides those things you didn't start sharing anything with us till 5th year."

"Not true. What about first year?"

Harry shrugged. "Hardly knew you in the beginning."

"And in Second year?"

"You slapped your forehead and ran away from us to the library. Next thing we knew you were petrified."

"I didn't hide anything from you."

"Well you didn't exactly explain to us why you needed to go to the library so badly."

"I was in a rush!" said Hermione in her defense.

"You had figured it out. The least you could have done is hinted something."

"Fine what about third year?"

"Oh that's rich!" laughed Harry.

"What?"

"Don't tell me you forgot your cramped schedule. Your double self. Your Time turner!"

"Okay, okay! What about fourth year."

"Viktor Krum. Ron was _pist_."

"Oh yea, I remember that one," said Hermione, and looked in dismay at the ceiling.

"Look, we each kept things from each other…it's expected. But…I mean…**before** there were times in which you would get too…_adulty_."

"**_Adulty?_**"

"Yea."

"How on earth have I ever been adulty?"

"Oh wow, Hermione. Third year, I got the fastest broom ever made and what do you do? You tell McGonnagall that I had received it from someone anonymous and that it might have been Sirius Black."

"Well it was!"

"So what? I got stuck with a nasty broom for the next couple of games."

"You got it back, didn't you?"

"…yea…"

"Alright then. I simply had your best interest at heart."

"You see!"

"What!"

"**Adults** say that."

"So I'm mature…sue me!"

"No Hermione. It's Ron's reason for not telling you things. If we wanted a lecture we'd go to his mum."

"Well whatever. We all tell each other about what's going on with you and the Order. It wouldn't be fair if you started cutting me out on that too."

"We're not."

"**You're **not," said Hermione, looking up so that she was able to see Harry.

Harry looked at her back. "**I'm** not. Now get out of my room, I want to shower," he said, pushing her the best way he could off his bed.

* * *

Draco and Blaise stood side by side, tense and alert as they met up with four other wizards, all but one from Ravenclaw. The other was a Hufflepuff.

"We sent for Zabini, Malfoy…so you're best on your way."

"I'd rather stay, thanks for the offer."

"I don't think it was an offer, Malfoy," said a tall, dark-skinned Ravenclaw. "It was more of a command."

"No one tells me what to do," said Draco easily.

The shortest of all four spoke up. "I believe we just did."

"I believe he doesn't care," said Blaise.

All four looked at each other, Blaise and Draco watching them closely.

"Zabini," said the Hufflepuff. "I think it's in **your** best interest that you speak with us alone."

"And why is that?" asked Draco curtly.

"Hey," said a stout, chubby Ravenclaw to Blaise. "If you want Malfoy to know what you've so eagerly been hiding from the world, then so be it. Otherwise, Zabini…tell the Slytherin King to go."

Blaise's posture straightened and he seemed somewhat more relaxed. He turned to Draco, who was looking more confused than anything.

"Alright mate, seeing as they look like absolutely no threat, you can go to the common room. I'll meet you there in a few minutes."

Draco looked at Blaise as if he had grown a third eye right on his forehead.

"Are you serious? You're going to cut me off from all the action?"

"What _action_? In case you didn't already see, there is absolutely no possible way these dweebs can—"

"Get a move on it, Zabini, or we'll spill it."

"Spill what?" asked Draco. "What's going on?"

"I have no idea, but just incase it's about your surprise birthday party, I don't want them to ruin it by telling you."

"Good try, genius."

"I'll tell you later, Malfoy. It's okay; I can take them if they try anything. And you can give them the second blow if they do for even thinking about hurting your best mate."

Draco looked skeptically at Blaise, his silver eyes staring harshly into the ponds of blue. Was Blaise hiding something? Was he trying to keep him away from some fun? Surely he wouldn't dare. They were best friends and he had no right to hide or keep him away from anything.

Then again he _has_ a few secrets of his own he hasn't told Blaise about.

"So then you're off, Malfoy?"

"I'll be waiting three halls down," he said, and turned to Blaise. "Anything fun and you call me over."

"Deal."

"Later Malfoy," said the Hufflepuff, and Draco had to use everything in his power to not dent that smirk on his face.

He looked one last time at Blaise, and then left to walk down the hall. It should be a matter of time before Blaise would pick a fight and he'd be able to get **some** action.

* * *

All lights off, Hermione sat before the lit fireplace of the common room, her knees to her chest. She was in her pajamas, a burgundy pair of pants with a burgundy sweater to accompany it. Her hair was wet and curly. She knew it was a matter of time before it became a mop of frizzy hair…but for now…she was going to simply enjoy the curls.

She was going to enjoy the quiet moment in time, in front of the fire, just thinking.

Thinking about how she will probably never get a moment to herself like that again for the remainder of her stay in Hogwarts.

How she had dreamt of becoming Headgirl since she first read about it in _Hogwarts A History_, and there she was…Headgirl. How did that feel?

**Tiring**.

Those hallway checks were murder. And the homework was absolute slaughter. The classes were so difficult, and the N.E.W.T.S were only months away.

I have to start studying. If I don't, I'll simply get crowded by the time the NEWTS actually get here.

_Who else is starting to study? Surely not Ron or Harry. They'll leave it for the last week or something._

_I wonder if Malfoy's studying. He **is** my closest competitor._

A smile crept on Hermione's lips. Draco Malfoy was her closest competitor? That meant that he was smart…which meant that he wouldn't be such a bad choice after all.

_Wouldn't be such a bad choice after all? Good God what am I thinking! He has to be the **worst** choice next to the Devil himself! He's an all-profit man whose interest lies in one thing and one thing only. Sex. And **you**, Hermione Granger, are **not** going to give it to him._

Hermione sighed and let her chin rest on her knees. Why was she thinking of Malfoy so often? Why couldn't she just…**stop thinking of hi**m? His perfect way of kissing her, holding her, grabbing her when she least expected it. Why was he so talented in the sexual field?

Why couldn't he leave her alone? Maybe…just maybe he felt something for her too. It _was_ a possibility, right?

_**Wrong**, Hermione. Absolutely incorrect. A man as handsome and in such high demand like Malfoy will never be interested in a girl like you. An incredibly skinny, flat-chested, nerdy bookworm of whom has no guy after her whatsoever._

But that wasn't true either. No matter how much she had thought about Malfoy lately, she still couldn't stop thinking about Terry.

**_He_** _is more my type. I mean, if I date him, I'll be considered lucky. Plenty of girls want him. He's handsome…smart…courteous…the perfect prince charming._

And she was falling for him too.

The only difference between the two of them, besides the houses and the rate of acceptance in the Hogwarts population, is that one Hermione will admit to like, and the other she'll pretend to not give a damn about.

Even to herself.

She couldn't even admit that she wouldn't admit to herself that she was starting to develop feelings for the Slytherin King because that would be admitting that she liked him at all.

The tapping on glass came to her attention from across the common room. A set of huge round eyes met her from the other side of the window, and after registering that it was an owl, hurried to open it.

"Hush! You'll wake Harry and I'll kiss the quietness goodbye," she said, quickly allowing the bird to enter the room.

It landed on the shelf located on top of the fireplace, hooted, and started to flutter its wings.

Hermione looked back at it, almost terrified, and closed the window with a slight slam. She rushed towards it, keeping her safe distance.

"Oh no, please don't do that! Could you…oh please…shh!" she whispered, her finger to her lips.

The owl seemed to stop for a second, of which Hermione used to her advantage as she looked towards Harry's wing to make sure that he hadn't heard anything.

The bird hooted loudly, causing Hermione to turn pale and take yet another look at Harry's wing.

"Alright, alright! What is it that you want? Anything just please…shh!"

The owl extended its foot to reveal a small scroll tied to it.

"That's it? You made all that noise just to give me a letter?" asked Hermione, walking towards the owl. Reaching up, she untied the tiny string and took the scroll. With only the crackling fire disrupting the silence, she opened the letter and began to read.

_To the love of my life:_

_ Go to the astronomy tower as soon as you read this message. I can no longer hide my feelings for you, for I will do nothing but go insane if I do. I know you can't resist the curiosity… please come._

_ From you greatest admirer_

"'**From your greatest admirer'**? Well that's informative," said Hermione, and looked back at the owl, who was now cleaning its feathers. "Who the hell in their right mind would like me?

"Should I go?" she asked the brown-feathered creature. The bird looked at her, with it's huge eyes, and tilted its head.

And as quick as lightning the owl flew off the shelf and headed for the window.

"Oh wait, let me open that—"

The owl seemed to be in a rush, as its whole body crashed through the glass and like a bag of stones fell to the grounds outside.

"Oh my _God_!" whispered Hermione, and rushed to the window.

Carefully stepping where there was no glass, she opened the window and looked out. The owl lay on the grass way below, and from what Hermione could see, flinching in pain.

"Oh my God!"

"What the hell is going on?"

Hermione turned towards Harry's wing.

"The owl just…"

She hesitated. The event still hadn't quite digested through her system.

"It just…it just…I mean…"

Harry descended the stairs with a priceless expression of utter shock and confusion.

"Are you okay?"

"Yea I'm fine."

"What happened?" he asked, walking to the fireplace and adding to its flames.

"Well I was just sitting here, relaxing a bit—"

"You just had a minute to yourself?"

"Yea."

"And all your homework's done?"

"Of course."

"Hallway checks?"

"All completed."

"Well that's not fair. I never have time for myself with all of this Headboy stuff. Anyway go on."

"Well I was just sitting there—"

"You said that."

"I **know**. I was just trying to get the flow of the story."

"Oh okay. Sorry, go on."

"Well I was just sitting there—"

"You really like repeating yourself don't you?"

"Harry!"

"Sorry. Go on."

"Well I was just…and then an owl came and I opened the window—"

"Naturally," said Harry, finally satisfied with the amount of light in the room, started walking towards Hermione.

"And after it came in I closed the window because it was cold. And after I took the letter from it, it just **dashed** to leave and it crashed through the window and—"

She stopped at the look of Harry's face as he took in the broken glass on the floor. He looked at her, as if he didn't believe her, and walked the final steps to the window. Careful with the broken glass, he stuck his head out.

"That is one _stupid_ bird," he laughed.

"_Harry_!"

"_Hermione!_" mocked Harry, sticking his head back in. "Well the bird flew away, so there is no point in worrying over it."

"What do you mean it flew away?"

"I think my statement was pretty self explanatory."

"Very funny, Potter."

"I try," shrugged Harry, skillfully walking past the broken glass and towards the stairs to his dormitory. "Night Hermione."

Hermione sighed, looking at the mess on the floor. "Night Harry."

"Oh Hermione?"

She looked up to meet a distant pair of emerald eyes. "What?"

"Who sent you the letter?"

Her heart skipped a beat. She had forgotten not to tell him about the letter. But surely she wasn't going to tell Harry now…though he'll probably find out for himself.

"Um…it was…"

Harry raised a tired eyebrow.

"It was just the girls. They want me to go with them to Hogsmead tomorrow to go on a…spontaneous shopping spree."

She saw the doubt in his eyes.

He knew she was lying. But he was just too tired to start one of those arguments that take forever.

"Right," he said, and turned to go up the rest of the stairs.

He'll find out tomorrow.

* * *

Hermione looked nervously about the dim, candle-lit room. Sad enough, she was going to the Astronomy tower and see who it was that had sent her the letter.

…**Why?**

Was she not Hermione Granger? The girl that would directly go to a professor should anything fishy happen? The girl that would think everything through before taking the very first step? Was she no longer cautious!

**Impossible**.

So what is it that has happened to make her become so…daring?

Curiosity. That level in her had always been pretty high. But nowadays…it was out of control. And what girl wouldn't like to know who secretly admirers her enough to write up a secret love meeting past midnight?

She had _tried_ to go back to sleep after she fixed the window. She had _tried_ to forget that letter that was sent to her on a crazy owl. She had _tried_ everything, but she knew that even the deepest of sleeping potions wouldn't do anything for the inquisitiveness of her mind.

What was left for her to do? Nothing but go to the Astronomy tower and hope that the person is still there.

And so there she was, Hermione Granger, looking nervously about her room, seeing if there was anything else she might need.

She had her cloak, her scarf, her gloves and her wand.

Her shoes.

**Was there anything else she needed?**

She needed to be invisible. That's what she needed.

She knew it was _way_ past school hours, and that her leaving anywhere would be violating school rules. And she as Headgirl should be giving a positive example and not abusing her privileges to her advantage.

But if she was invisible…no one could catch her. And thus she wouldn't be violating anything.

She knew what she needed. She needed Harry's invisibility cloak.

Wait a minute there Hermione. That would be a seriously stupid thing of you to do. First of all, getting Harry's cloak would mean going to his room. And he'll just wake up while I'm searching for the blasted thing and bam! He's got you. He'll interrogate you and sleepwalking is no excuse for anything.

So you're stuck being visible.

Hermione took a deep breath and turned to her door. She would just have to be careful is all. She was always careful. She had never really been caught before…and severely punished.

Then again she was always with Harry.

But this time she would be all alone. Meeting someone anonymous.

She could get raped. Violated. Killed…or expelled!

_'Oh please Hermione; it's not that serious. They won't **expel** you…you're Headgirl. And you'll only get in trouble if you get caught._

_'So don't.'_

* * *

If there was anything he hated more than Potter himself, it was having to wait for something he wasn't too sure was coming.

Draco looked over the corner of the hallway and saw Blaise in deep conversation with the same idiots from before.

He did a double take. Blaise…serious? _Never_.

But it was true. From what he was able to see, Blaise didn't even have a smirk on his face. The trademark look of sarcasm in his eyes. He looked as if he was…concentrating?

Draco chuckled at his absolutely insane thought. Blaise Zabini concentrating during a regular conversation between himself and a fellow classmate? Highly doubtful.

His stare clashed with one of the Hufflepuffs and he retrieved his head.

This was absolutely pathetic and a serious waste of his time. What was going on anyways? Is Blaise hiding something from him? Something as serious as it looks?

Well it couldn't possibly matter that much. Surely if Blaise was up to his neck he'd call onto Draco and try to drag him into something that he did not want to be a part of…as usual.

And if he hadn't called up to him it was because he was still at a level where he could handle himself…something all Slytherins are capable of doing.

Live for no one else but yourself.

Draco sighed in impatience. There was obviously no action here, and he had waited long enough. It had to have already been a good twenty minutes.

_'Who does Blaise think he is anyways? Does he think he's that important to make **me**, Draco Malfoy, wait for him? I highly doubt it. I have never waited for anyone before in my whole entire life. Mother of course being the exception.'_

He was amazed at how easy it was for him to keep a straight face and act as if nothing bad had happened lately. He walked around school as if he hadn't just finished loosing his mother. The only woman—heck, the only person—to ever really care for him. Like family. Like a human being. Not because of his name or looks.

But because he was simply her son.

His mother was the best woman he'd ever meet, and it seemed so incredibly disgusting on Fait's behalf to take her away from him.

He clenched his jaw and started walking again.

And they weren't even going to let him go to his mother's funeral? Did they not know that the woman was his mother? That alone…no need for more details…should allow him to go and say his goodbyes.

He can't say that he's fought to get permission to go attend his mother's funeral. In a way, he really didn't want to go see her.

Her once full-of-life eyes shut to never again be opened. Her body cold, motionless, and dead. No. He couldn't see her like that. He'd break down…in front of all the people that would surely attend simply because her last name was Malfoy.

Draco took a deep breath and sped his walk a bit. He wasn't going to think about it anymore. He made himself a promise. He was just going to move on. There was no point in dwelling over something that he cannot fix. Like it or not, his mother was not alive and he was alone.

He caught sight of small figure in the distance quietly rushing to look around the corner, and continue walking.

'_Well well well. Look who's up past bedtime'_ smirked Draco, and looked around the hallway. No one.

Perfect. Looks like he was going to get some action after all.

* * *

Hermione stepped out onto the grounds, the cold air immediately slashing her cheeks red.

She jogged down the steps and briefly onto the field before slowing down to a brisk walk, clutching her cloak tighter.

She raised the hood of her cloak over her head. The temperature was really unbearably cold, and come to think of it, she should've put more layers of clothing on.

She reached the astronomy tower, and looked behind her to see if anyone had spotted her from a window or something of the sort. Seeing all lights were off, she turned to the door.

She pushed against it, and it's creak echoed loudly into the pitch-black tower.

'_Good God, why does this blasted door have to be so loud! It's as if I'm not nervous enough.'_

She took off her right glove, stuffed it in her robe pocket, and retrieved her wand.

"_Lumos_!"

A light shone greatly through the stairway of the tower, causing Hermione to panic.

"_Knox_! _Knox_!—Damn it Hermione, could you be any thicker!" she whispered to herself, rushing up a few stairs to a window so that she could look back at the castle; hopeful no one caught the odd glow in the tower.

She breathed again. No one seemed to be awake or by any windows, from what she could see. But just to be on the safe side, she better make this encounter quick.

Hermione held on to the wall as a guide up the stairs, her eyes simply unable to adjust to the immense darkness.

After what felt like an eternity, she felt a wall begin directly in front of her, and began her search for the doorknob.

Wand clasped tightly, she closed her other hand over the cold handle, and turned it.

Somewhere in the distance she heard a door open and close.

Her breathing unconsciously stopped, her heart pounding quite faster than the normal rate. She turned the knob and pushed the door, its hinges creaking loudly.

"Hello?" she said. "Is anyone still here?"

She walked into the classroom, not fully closing the door behind her, just in case.

She took cautious steps further into the room, keeping her wand at the ready.

"Hello?"

She looked around her, but no one seemed to be in sight.

_'Maybe he went to the roof.'_

Hermione proceeded to walk to the far end of the room, where behind the door stairs that led to the roof of the tower could be found. Perhaps he had left to the roof for fresh air, or to make it all the more romantic.

Hermione couldn't help it. Even though guys weren't exactly her number one priority, she was still a girl and she couldn't help but get a bit flushed at the thought of someone having a crush on her; at the thought that someone would go to these lengths to declare some sort of romantic interest in her. It was…touching. She briefly wondered if Lavender, Gryffindor's beauty, ever had anyone go this far to declare his love for her.

'_She probably had this happen to her more than once,'_ she thought grimly.

Lavender was of great gorgeousness; though she could be a bit wicked at times.

She turned the doorknob, and as she did, the quick sound of a chair being dragged along the wooden floor came from the far dark corner of the room.

Hermione spun around, her breath hitched in her throat and her wand outstretched before her.

"Who's there?" she asked, surprising herself at the firmness of her voice.

She strained to see who it was, and with much difficulty, she was able to make out a dark hooded figure.

"Hello? Who…who are you?" asked Hermione.

The figure moved to a window and pulled back the drapes, allowing the moon's full glow through.

He reached into his robes, and pulled out a single red rose, extending a gloved finger beckoning her towards him.

Hermione slowly put her wand down, and walked towards the window. She was halfway there when she stopped, thinking better about the whole thing. Why should she get close when she still couldn't see his face?

'_How did you even get here Hermione? Just turn around. You're breaking school rules and that is **so**…**not**…**you**.'_

His beckoning finger changed to an outstretched hand, held with such tender delicacy that Hermione had to give in. Walking through a couple of more desks, she reached for his hand.

He grabbed her hand hard, causing Hermione to try and pull herself away. He yanked her towards him, not close enough to be anywhere near sexual, but close enough so that his other hand were able to pull back Hermione's hood off her head.

Hermione felt the color quickly drain out of her face, her heart beating loudly in her ears.

He let go, and Hermione was lucky that there was a desk behind her, or she would have fallen right to the floor.

He laughed loudly and mockingly in an oddly high pitch.

The gloved hands reached for the black hood, pulling it back revealing long, sleek blonde hair; fair skin, and blue eyes.

"Come on out girls! Wouldn't want you to miss the look on Granger's face at a time like this."

Three girls came out from behind the door that led to the roof, two more coming from the closet where all of the Astronomy telescopes and such were kept.

"Way to go Pansy, you really tricked Granger!" said one girl.

"Quick, someone turn on the lights and close the drapes behind me. I want to see Granger's face in as much detail as possible," smirked Pansy.

And as obedient dogs, two girls rushed to light every candle in the room with their wands while another girl made a dash for the drapes.

"I can't believe you actually succeeded, Pansy," snarled a girl that hadn't bothered to move a finger.

She had incredibly long black hair, which was tied over her shoulder and fell to her waist. "I guess I figured Granger smarter than that."

"I think this has proven my theory right, eh Denise? **All** girls have a weakness. Boys."

"Now, now Pansy. Don't jump ahead of yourself, there," said Denise, crossing her arms and sizing up Hermione. "An extremely pretty girl wouldn't have come at all because she's already used to the attention, and wouldn't risk getting into trouble. A fairly pretty girl might not have come due to the hours. Both would have bragged about it to their friends the very next day. But _Granger_…"

"I still can't believe she _actually_ thought someone liked her!" squealed a rosy-cheeked, plump but pretty curly-haired brunette.

All six girls laughed, and Hermione had never before felt so embarrassed and disappointed.

At herself.

"Trust me Jane, no one knows that more than me," said Pansy. She flipped her hair over her shoulder. "I mean, just _look_ at yourself, Granger. Did you really think anyone would do so much as look at you? You and your," she strode towards Hermione and took a lock of her now frizzy hair, "bushy head," she finished, letting go with distaste.

"She has absolutely no body," snickered Denise. "It's acceptable when you're fourteen…even fifteen. But **seventeen**? That's quite the late bloomer."

There was a riot of laughter coming from each end of the room, and Hermione felt the terrible burning in her cheeks.

"And her face," said Jane. "It's so…plain. There's nothing pretty about it at all!"

Remarks of agreement filled the room.

"Well I'm glad you're all getting a kick out of this," said Hermione in a monotone. "I can't say I disagree with any of you. I came to see who it was that might actually have an interest in me. But my, my, my. I didn't think it would be you Pansy."

She scoffed. "Oh please Granger. I don't think anyone on the face of this earth is **that** desperate."

"Looks like you are," said Hermione.

"Well at least the poor girl admits that she's ugly," said Denise, a smirk plastered on her face.

"She has no choice **but** to agree," came a mockingly sweet voice from behind Hermione. "She's outnumbered."

"She's outnumbered alright. One to the rest of Hogwart's population!" said Pansy, and once again laughter dominated the room.

Hermione felt the tears threaten to fall.

'_No Hermione. Don't let them have the satisfaction. **Don't**.** Let**. **Them**. **Win**.'_

Pansy smiled cynically at Hermione. "Were you excited Granger?"

Yes.

"Were you anxious to know who it was that had sent you that love letter? Were you happy to know you had an admirer? Did you—"

"Did you think someone found you attractive?" finished Denise, and the room was full of snickers.

_Yes_, thought Hermione, looking to the floor. _How stupid was I_?

"Aww look at that, Denise. Looks like Granger here _did_ think she was liked. She _did_ feel excited and she _did _feel pretty for one whole hour." Everyone gave a sardonic "aww".

Jane snorted. "I just about thought she wasn't going to come. I was ready to leave."

"Lack of loyalty," snapped Pansy, and Jane looked shamefully to the floor.

"She wasn't the only one," said Denise. "But then we heard the door to the tower close, and the so called _loyalty_ came back to all of us."

"But it was a very good idea Pansy," said one of the girls that rushed to light up every candle in the room. "The best one yet in Slytherin."

"Thank you Julia," said Pansy pompously. Julia beamed at Pansy's recognition.

"She's hideous," said Jane, clearly trying to make up for her mistake and earn Pansy's approval as well. "An absolute disgrace to all females. What species is she anyway?" she finished, earning another round of laughter at Hermione's expense.

"**That's enough**."

Every Slytherin girl turned at the unusual deep voice. A voice that caused Hermione's insides to turn churn.

'_Jesus, please let it not be him,'_ prayed Hermione.

"Draco, honey, how nice of you to join us!" squealed Pansy.

'_Yea Malfoy. How great of you to join in on my torture.'_

She still wouldn't turn around, something Pansy thought very disrespectful.

"Turn around you good-for-nothing mudblood," she hissed, grabbing Hermione's face in both of her hands and turning it, and as a result most of her upper body, to face Draco.

At first, Hermione tried to look somewhere other than him. The desk next to him, the floor…anything. But eventually she couldn't help but sneak a little glance his way.

He also felt it necessary to delay their eyes from meeting, staring only at Pansy. But he couldn't resist either, and their eyes finally met.

Time froze.

Hermione saw an inner battle within Draco. It was the type of insecurity you'd see in the eyes of a Commander when he needs to make a hard decision at war.

Draco turned away, and began to look around at the dreamy stares in the room.

"Draco, baby, we were just telling Granger how…_gifted_ she is," said Pansy.

"_Gifted_?" asked Denise. "As I recall, that was **not** what we were talking about."

"**_Gifted_** as in she's _gifted_ when it comes to scaring men away," answered Pansy, and most girls burst into giggles.

Hermione felt her face go hot, her self-consciousness causing her great embarrassment.

But of course a Gryffindor will never let that be shown without a fight.

Hermione's face was still in Pansy's Parkinson's clutches, and Hermione gathered all confidence left to shove her hands off, and even push the blonde a bit away.

"Then how is it," said Hermione, all firmness in her tone. "That I haven't scared you bunch away."

Gasps…and a chuckle from Draco.

"A-are you **trying** to call us m-men!" said a redhead standing by Denise. "For your information—"

"We are _way_ more feminine than you'll _ever_ be," finished Jane.

"That's right," said Pansy.

"She's just jealous," said Julia, a girl Hermione had just noticed to have radiant burgundy hair.

"Of what?" asked Hermione, sounding incredulous.

"Of _these_," said Jane, giving one quick nod down to her chest.

Laughter filled the room.

"Of _this_," said Denise, giving her behind a quick, naughty pat.

This was the initiation of one big chain of jokes about what they found Hermione lacked. Luscious lips, curvy hips, long legs, soft hair and seductive eyes.

Draco could feel her embarrassment, and his anger rising. Why? He did not know, but right when Pansy was going to add in her second opinion of what Hermione lacked, he lost it.

"**I said that's enough!**"

Pansy was left mid-sentenced and open-mouthed.

"Draco, are you feeling ill tonight?"

"As a matter of fact, Julia, I am," said Draco, looking around the room in disgust.Somwhere in the back of his mind he registered that he had slept with every Slythern girl in the room.

Something about hearing Draco call Julia by her first name made Hermione feel a bit…upset.

"I know why," said Denise, a smirk growing across her face.

Hermione turned to look at her, and it was brown vs. pitch-black. Denise started walking towards Hermione, arms crossed and pace slow.

"Because we haven't told him what happened to get her here. The plan Parkinson created to get good- goody Granger to the tower."

"I _know_—" began Draco, but he was cut off.

"You see Malfoy, Granger here thought she had an admirer," said Denise, reaching Pansy's point and unlocking her arms to place her hands on her hips. "This pathetic Gryffindor sneaked out of her common room, out of the school and into the astronomy tower all because we forged a _love_ letter."

The girls burst into laughter, and Hermione couldn't prevent the tears from stinging her eyes.

'_Don't tell him anymore, **please** not him,'_ thought Hermione.

"That's right," said Pansy. "She was all excited and everything—"

"Oh _please_," said Hermione. "I was not." Just because she was excited didn't mean they had to know it.

"You were too," snarled Pansy. She looked at Draco, "You should have _seen_ her face when she realized it was me in the robes and not her Prince Charming. At first, she looked a bit confused. And then when it all sunk in, she looked so disappointed! She _actually_ thought someone liked her!"

Hermione felt time move in slow motion, her breathing getting louder and louder.

She looked at all the laughing faces frantically, and though she was strong, they had slaughtered a nerve that had been present in her for as long as she could remember.

Hermione nearly had an outer body sensation, and shoved past Pansy and Denise.

She rushed through some desks, crashing into three chairs as she tried to ignore the laughter and snide remarks made by the other girls. She was way out of focus, concentrating only on getting out of the Astronomy tower.

"Hermione—" said Draco, as he reached for her arm when she went by him.

She dodged his hand and rushed right out of the room, nearly tumbling down the stairs.

Draco looked back at Pansy Parkinson and at Denise Dolman.

Denise smirked and raised a questioning eyebrow. "_Hermione_?"

Draco clenched his jaw and looked after Hermione.

He had followed her to the tower, a good distance away. He had been able to hear every word spoken after Parkinson had ordered the lights to be turned on, standing right outside the door, listening to every insult Hermione had taken.

And for some reason, he felt every one.

He didn't know what was the matter with him. Normally he would be proud that his housemates had pulled something like this off on a Gryffindor. On **that** specific Gryffindor. But for some reason, he felt sorry for her. And Malfoys don't pity anyone.

He caught sight of the rose on a desk diagonally behind Pansy.

She followed his stare, a wicked smile on her face. She picked up the rose like a spoiled girl and caressed it against her cheek.

"You can congratulate me on my creativity later," she said with a wink and a seductive pursing of lips.

Draco sneered slightly, his jaw clenched. He felt the anger boil up inside.

"**Fuck. You,"** he said, before turning around and exiting the room after Hermione, slamming the door behind him.

Parkinson looked taken aback, and lowered the flower in confusion.

"What was up with that?" she asked Denise.

Denise shrugged. "I just hope it's not what I'm thinking," she murmured.

"Why?" asked Jane. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking aboutthe greatestdisgrace to the house of Slytherin…"

* * *

**A.N:** I know what you're all thinking.

What the hell took her so long!

Well, I had started writing a chapter, and had 15 pgs so far…and then my computer crashed.

I was mad. Real mad.

So then, after I cooled down about a week later, I started writing whenever I could.

I had 27 pgs. I still wasn't done.

And then some genius (yours truly) formatted her floppy disk where it was all saved. (I had some great scenes in that chapter)

I was destroyed.

I was mad.

I felt like I could never recover the great job I had put in that chapter. I thought It was so far perfect…and I was so disappointed…you have no idea.

Funny enough, I didn't try for like the next two weeks.

When I **did** try again…I had writer's block.

That and WAY TOO MUCH DRAMA in my life.

In a way, I'm living this story. Of course when compared it's WAY OFF, but the general idea of this fic is based on my life. Maybe I'll write a book about it one day.

But the only reason I even intended it again was because the reviews kept coming.

You reviewers ARE THE ONES RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS CHAPTER.

I wouldn't be bothered any other way.

So please…REVIEW!

**P-L-E-A-S-E R-E-V-I-E-W! I N-E-E-D IT!**


	17. The Liar in Hermione Granger

**Chapter Seventeen:**

"Hermione! Hermione wait!"

It was hard to see through her puddle of tears, but all that mattered was that she was out of the tower and away from the heartless Slytherins. She knew the only place she'd be able to calm down was in the loneliness of her own Common Room.

"Granger!"

Hermione was running. She wasn't stopping or turning around for anyone in the world.

Her tears were incredibly hot compared to the whip-lashing, fierce and freezing winds. There was nothing she could possibly have done to prevent them from falling, not even her immense Gryffindor pride.

But she was still running. Not at her top speed, her lungs not allowing her the luxury due to the excess cold air, but running nonetheless.

"Granger, you're making me run at late hours of the night and I don't appreciate it," said Draco, more to himself than to anyone.

Hermione reached the castle and tried to open the double doors, but they were shut tight.

Hermione Granger was desperate, and looked like she was having a complete spasm as she took hold of both handles, and pulled on them repeatedly. The doors still would not budge.

Hermione turned from the doors and started to run for the nearest set of doors around the castle.

"Oh my God, Granger!" said Draco, changing his direction after her. He sped up, still not sure why he even cared to chase her.

Hermione pulled on the doors, and again neither would open. She held on to the handles as if they were her life, leaning her forehead against the door in surrender.

She'd run more, but that was as impossible as Harry Potter becoming friends with Voldemort. She was out of breath; Hermione's never been much of an athlete.

She tried pulling them again, this time in absolute anger, her forehead still pressed against the cold wood.

And since it wouldn't open, she kicked it and slapped it hard once. Hermione looked up at the castle, hoping and fearing she had woken someone up.

She heard hurried footsteps die down not too far from her.

"Granger…"

Hermione turned around, her face tear-streaked and glistening under the moonlight. She turned once more to the door and resigned to the fact that it was locked.

"Granger I…" _have no idea what to say…_

Hermione let out a sarcastic laugh, crossing he arms over her chest. "Come to finish the job, are you? Don't figure you're _girlfriend_ and her little _clan_ over there've created enough damage, do you?"

She looked at his silver orbs, resembling greatly two full moons. She felt her own eyes filling up with tears of anger and embarrassment.

"Granger that's…that's not what I'm here for," said Draco quietly.

She let out a hearty and highly sarcastic laugh, more tears spilling out.

"Oh please, Malfoy! As if I haven't known you for the past six, seven years," said Hermione, detangling her arms and shoving past Draco muttering, "give me a break."

"Granger—"

"What are you here for?" asked Hermione in a cracked voice as she spun around to see him. "Here to laugh at me? Rub it in my face that I'm **every bit** as unattractive as your girls said I was!" said Hermione passionately, tears flooding onto her cheeks. "Because if you are," she choked, "please…**please** spare yourself the trouble," she whispered, and started to walk away.

"I'm not here for any of that," said Draco, who honestly didn't know what he _was_ there for.

She turned around. "No? Then please, do me the favor and leave me alone. You have no business—"

"Hermione what Pansy a-and Denise and Julia and all of those other girls did was wrong. I—"

"Wrong? **Wrong? **That's probably the _last_ thing it was."

"I don't understand," said Draco, starting to walk towards her helpless figure.

"What Parkinson did might have been harsh, cruel, and even _inhumane_…but it was **true**. They were all right," she said miserably. "They were all absolutely correct."

Draco stopped in his tracks as he saw her face contort and more tears drown her face. Gosh this was awkward.

Hermione looked up and sniffed, roughly wiping the tears away.

"I **don't **have _luscious lips_ or big breasts or thick thighs or-or great hair," she said. She threw her hands helplessly up in the air, "I know that," she said. She looked to her right, away from Draco, and repeated herself…tears once again sprouting heavily from her eyes. "I know that."

"Hermione I—"

"I don't **have **to be reminded, you know? It's something I've lived with for as long as I could remember. Not to mention I'm **_seventeen._** I shouldn't even _care_. I should be _over_ this phase of teenage insecurity and what not. And I usually don't care," she said, looking back at Draco. "But tonight was different."

Draco looked into her moonlit honey-brown eyes. In them he saw her nearly dreamy, hopeful look.

Lord this was weird.

"Tonight I received a love letter. Did you know that I had never really received a love letter? I never had someone who liked me long enough to dedicate time to write about his undying love for me. Not even for April Fool's day."

Her eyes changed to utter sadness.

"And it was all a fake. Everything in that letter, which wasn't much, was fake. No one _liked_ me, no one wanted to meet me in the _astronomy tower_, no one thought I was pretty…no one _loved_ me."

Draco broke the eye contact. For some reason he couldn't stand seeing her so…broken down. He wasn't used to it. He heard her laugh sardonically.

"And to think I was actually getting my hopes up! Someone like _me_…even **daring** to think someone will find her somewhat attractive."

Draco thought this perspective was being blown seriously out of proportion. Hermione wasn't even ugly! Sure she wasn't GORGEOUS…but she wasn't as hideous as she's making herself out to be.

"Hermione this is ridiculous," said Draco, anger slowly, very slowly settling in.

"Is it really? Think, Draco. When is it that I've had a boyfriend since I've been here at Hogwarts?"

Draco's intestine squirmed in discomfort as he remembered the Yule Ball. "What about Krum?"

"What _about_ Victor? **That** was an absolute miracle. Many claim that he was blind at the moment, which will explain a whole lot. But did I really ever have him as a boyfriend? No, Malfoy…he was just **one** date to **one** dance."

"But he could have had any girl," he said, his anger rising ever so slightly. "But he chose _you_."

"You're right, Draco," said Hermione. "He could have had anyone but he chose me. And do you know what everyone was saying that night? _Poor Krum took it upon himself to do charity_," finished Hermione, new tears filing out.

She wiped them away hurriedly. "It's just not fair, you know?"

_What's not fair Granger, you're prettier than many!_

"You see all these amazing looking girls guys swarm over…and then you look at the reflection in the mirror and wish that you were blessed with only _half _of that beauty."

Draco's anger rose. He never knew Hermione felt so low about herself.

"…and they _complain_! I would NEVER complain if I had their bodies or…"

So she wasn't a model or a beauty pageant winner. She still wasn't ugly.

She went on, pouring all her self-conscious thoughts to Draco. He highly doubted that she even remembered whom she was talking to. Probably thought it was Potter or something.

"And I know I'm no pretty thing, but the way your girls…that was just too much for me. Far too much. I could take accidental remarks from Dean Thomas, telling me and anyone who'd listen that I'm not much to look at. I can deal with that. I hardly care, to be honest. It's just that, sadly, I had let my hopes up…like a stupid little girl…"

Hermione seemed to step out of her depression, looking away from Draco.

"I don't even know why it's affecting me so much!"

Draco felt the anger burn inside. That little prank Pansy pulled would affect _anyone_.

"It's not like I'm not _used _to it. I guess I've just never had it shoved in my face all at once and so…ruthlessly."

"Granger you're being pathetic," said Draco in spite of himself.

"Pathetic!" choked Hermione, once again looking at him. "You wouldn't have a single **clue** about what I'm going through right now!"

"Hermione you're not ugly!"

"Easy for you to say, you're gorgeous!"

"Oh _shut up_!" said Draco impatiently. "You're so insecure about yourself that you're afraid to hear one sole compliment!"

"No, Malfoy! I'm so insecure about myself that I'm afraid I'll _never_ hear** one sole compliment**!"

"But you already have! You just continually deafen yourself to them!"

"How can you deafen yourself to something that's not there to be heard!"

"It's there," said Draco, walking to Hermione till he was a mere foot away. "You just refuse to listen!"

"Oh please," said Hermione curtly. "If there's anything a girl like me would catch it's a compliment."

"Ugh, God!" roared Draco, turning to walk a few steps away from Hermione. He turned around, an incredulous look on his features.

"How many times have you heard that you're the brightest witch of our year?"

Hermione mumbled under her breath.

"What, Granger, **what**! Brains isn't good enough for you! What, you have to have perfect measurements for you to feel good about yourself!"

They stared at each other, a great tension building up. Draco's arms flew into the air in surrender.

"Jesus, Granger, who knew you were so damn insecure?" said Draco, turning away from her.

"Oh _don't_ make me go there."

He turned around. "Go where, Hermione? Go where?" he said.

Hermione was not intimidated. "To the fact that not everyone is self-centered, egotistical and smug!"

"You don't _have _to be self-centered, egotistical, **or** smug to be confident! My god, Granger, for the brightest witch you sure know how to be an idiot."

"Oh no you did _not_ just call me an—!"

"So what if I did?" he said, his eyes blazing. "There's nothing you can do about it."

"Asshole."

"Bitch."

"_Smug_ asshole."

"**Insecure** bitch."

"Good-for-nothing bastard."

"Good-for-nothing _Gryffindor_."

There was an awkward silence. Only Malfoy would think that calling someone a Gryffindor is insulting.

Hermione turned away from him and crossed her arms. "You expect me _not _to feel insecure after being humiliated the way I was back at the tower?"

Draco stayed quiet, and Hermione turned to face him, walking briskly toward him for effect.

"You don't know what it's like to have a whole bunch of school girls tell you that you're the ugliest duck in the pond…at once."

She stopped in front of him, glad that they were both now under shadows and that her new tears, she hoped, could not be seen.

"You're overreacting," he said harshly, not looking at her but over her head.

"Of course _you'd_ say that," said Hermione. "_You_ could have any girl you want! You have a handful at your beck and call, they're there at your service!" said Hermione, nearly disgusted.

Draco looked down at her, his eyes fierce. "I can't have _you_, correct?"

Hermione, who was expecting an outburst claiming that he didn't have **every** girl eating out of his hand, blushed. She hadn't expected that at all.

She opened her mouth, and closed it again; repeating this two more times.

"Ah—well—uh—no?"

Draco cocked an eyebrow. "Was that a question?"

Hermione turned indignant. "No! I was just…caught off guard."

Draco stared at her dead on, and Hermione suddenly became aware of how close they were.

"Draco, why are you here?" asked Hermione.

Draco took another step closer to her, making them inches apart, still staring fiercely.

She gave a miniscule step back.

_Why don't you try being nice to her,_ screamed Blaise's voice in his head. _It's the only way to get close to Granger_.

He tried to change the way he was looking at her, and found it very difficult to do. He closed his eyes, hoping that when they opened they'd have a different stare in them. It didn't seem to be working.

He started rolling his eyes behind his eyelids, and ended up doing it without his eyes closed, making it look like he had something in his eye.

Hermione tried not to laugh. "Uh…Malfoy. Are you alright?"

Well that had changed the look in his eye.

"Yeah. I…I felt my eye go dry for a bit," he finished lamely. He didn't remember ever telling a worse lie.

Hermione laughed good-naturedly. She had a beautiful smile.

Draco felt his stomach churn.

Right then he tried to smile, but he was far too nervous and gave up on that attempt altogether, taking a brave mini-step closer to her instead.

Hermione realized this and slowly stopped laughing, looking uncomfortable under his curious glare.

She cleared her throat, placing a lock of hair behind her ear as she looked away from him.

"Yeah, I think—"

He took her face in his hands and captured her lips…softly. Hermione, though a bit surprised, responded with a kiss just as soft.

His stomach had more fluttering butterflies than all of England put together. His heart wasn't beating quickly, but painfully slow and incredibly loud.

He lightly sucked on her bottom lip, biting it tenderly, before once again kissing her fully, tongue and all, so feverishly that it took Hermione a couple of seconds to recuperate and kiss him back just as hotly.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he slipped his around her waist, snaking one hand between her shoulder blades.

He took this to his advantage and deepened the kiss by pulling her closer.

Their breathing was noisily quickened, and Hermione couldn't prevent the moan that issued from the back of her throat.

Her hands now on his neck, she pulled his face even closer to hers; the sight of them seeming a bit cramped.

Caught in the moment, Hermione Granger did something very uncharacteristic.

She ceased the kiss to simple repetition of tap kisses before she trailed to his cheek and eventually to his neck.

Draco tilted his head slightly to an angle and gave Hermione's teasing lips more room.

He moaned. Low, and not as noticeably as Hermione's, but he still moaned.

That was the first time he had moaned without being in a more _compromising_ situation than the one at hand. In general, no one had ever made him feel so great by just kissing his neck…because she wasn't even giving him a hickey.

It was innocent, sweet, pure…everything he wasn't. He wanted her to leave trails of those kisses everywhere she possibly could, and was highly disappointed when she trailed back up his cheek and tap-kissed him once before ceasing to kiss him at all.

Hermione's hands slid down from his neck to the front of his chest, and when Draco bent to kiss her again, she held her hands firmly in place to prevent it.

Draco looked at her questioningly, almost angry for being interrupted.

"What's wr—"

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered, and his response was to detangle himself and take a small step back.

"Why are _you_ doing this Granger?"

"Malfoy, I don't want to be some adventure to add to your list."

"You've mentioned that so many times, Hermione," he said, slightly impatient.

"Then why are you kissing me?" she whispered, her voice slowly rising with every statement. "Why did you follow me all the way here? Why did you tell your girls to stop back at the tower? Why…" she breathed. "Why does it almost seem like you care?"

Draco stopped at this for a moment. Word got out that he _cared_ for Granger and the reputation he had worked so hard at would come crumbling down.

And knowing Granger, she'd start defending him from Potter and Weasley as a mark of gratitude. She was honest like that. Then they'd ask what was wrong with her and she'd tell them about tonight…

He couldn't have that. There was no way Blaise would ever let him live it down.

He sneered at Hermione's inquisitorial and almost kind stare. "Oh please Granger. _Care_? The only person allowed to insult you to tears is **me**. _I'm_ the only one who should make you feel so low, not Parkinson-and-company!"

Hermione looked away from him, and Draco automatically wished he hadn't said that.

"Of course," said Hermione, as though everything had suddenly become clear to her. "How thick could I have possibly been?"

She looked back up at Draco and couldn't prevent the tear that escaped her eye. "Did you just…_use_ me?"

There was a small, human part of his brain that was telling him to tell her no. That he was not using her in the slightest bit.

But of course, the rest if his brain…full of Malfoy pride, Slytherin image and his personal reputation, didn't allow it.

He let a smirk form on his features.

"If it helps…you're not a bad…"

_Not a bad what, Draco? Not a bad Gryffindor? Not a bad person? Not bad-looking; not bad at all! Tell her she's great, you idiot! Don't hurt her._

Since when had ANY part of his brain told him not to hurt Granger?

"…kisser," he finished, feeling as if he had stabbed every fluttering butterfly in his stomach with the thickest dagger.

Hermione let out a short breath of disbelief, not bothering to hide the hurt look on her face. There was no more hiding tonight. She had been hit again and again. Blow after blow.

She was far too weak to bother to hide any emotion.

Draco noted this. He had come to, in general, make her feel better and there he was adding to her grief.

He moved towards her, an apologetic tone in his voice.

"Hermione I didn't—"

"Don't touch me."

Draco felt a rise of annoyance within him. _He was **trying** to be nice_.

"Hermione I'm…"

_Sorry's the word Draco. Go on, say it. Hermione Granger, I am **sorry**._

But it was a lot more difficult than what his brain made it out to be. The simple five-letter word was something he's muttered probably twice in his life…and meant it.

Every other time it was to prevent getting in trouble by professors or something of the sort.

Hermione waited for the missing word, and when it didn't come, looked at him with pure loathing.

"This is what I get in return for being there the night you found out your mother was dead?"

Draco felt a pang of guilt.

"I was kind enough to offer a caring hand on your night of sorrow, but during my pain all you can tell me is that you're the only one allowed to make me cry!" said Hermione piercingly.

Draco, who wasn't too far from her to begin with, made to touch her, but she slapped his hand away.

"**Don't** touch me, Draco. Don't you _dare_ touch me. You **sicken** me," she said in disgust, and shoved past him to find an entrance that _was_ open.

* * *

"Could you slow down there, Ron? No one's going to steal your food, I'll guarantee you that," said Ginny from across the table, looking at her older brother in slight disgust.

"Morning, Ginny!" said Harry, sitting next to Ron and taking one of his bacons.

Ron gave Ginny a pointed look

"Morning Harry. I see you're in a more social mood today than you were the past two days."

Harry, who hadn't wasted a single moment in starting to fill his mouth with food, looked at her ruefully.

"Eah, sowwy 'bout dat," he said, finally swallowing his food at the look on Ginny's face. "I blew up at Hermione too, if that makes you feel any better."

"Why would that make me feel any better?" asked Ginny, taking a dignified bite of her toast.

"So that you don't think that your face ignites my fury."

"Oh. Right," said Ginny, and looked like she was about to say something, but Seamus, who squished himself next to Ginny, interrupted.

"Heard about what you did," said Seamus with a smile. "Dean told me last night. You're a true hero, mate," he said, reaching over the table to punch Harry's left shoulder.

"What'd I do?" asked Harry, gingerly massaging the new bruise.

"Heard you broke up with Zunille for no apparent reason," said Seamus, filling up his plate with toast and bacon.

"Harry!" said Ginny, looking at Harry with shock.

"Yeah…I know. Not my best—"

"Why'd you do it?" asked Ginny, sneaking a disgusted look at Ron as he choked on his orange juice.

"Because…oh Ginny it's real awful, don't make me say it."

"Harry this isn't like you. Sure there are times where you just **don't** **think**, and far too many times where you act on impulse, but you're not…you're not Malfoy."

Ron, who had finally recovered after a few slaps on the back from Dean on his other side, asked unbelievingly "You broke up with Zunille! Harry what is _wrong_ with you? She looks **great**!"

"I'm sure Harry has his reasons that go beyond looks, right Harry?" asked Ginny.

"Uh…sure."

Ginny seemed to sense his discomfort.

"Where's Hermione?"

Harry looked at her gratefully, "I don't have a clue."

"You know," said Seamus. "For two people that live in the same common room and are best friends…you hardly know where the hell each other is."

"Yeah well…after a night of passion, who really cares?" said Dean, causing everyone to laugh.

Harry nearly choked on his eggs. "EWW! That's disgusting! Hermione's my best friend, I would…_never_—"

"Uh-oh," interrupted Ron. "Here comes the newly-dumped. Wonder why she waited till today."

"Harry!" screeched Zunille, and the whole Gryffindor table knew he was in for it.

Harry's face screwed up in pain, turning around to meet her approaching form.

"Catherine…how kind of you to join us—"

"Oh _don't_ give me that Harry."

"But I'm not giving you anything."

"Harry! We need to talk. **Now**."

Harry looked at Ginny, who seemed to have found the eighth wonder of the world in her plate.

"Now?" asked Harry. "You see, I've just started eating and I would really…I'm really hungry and…I need food to get energy for my classes. You know Snape's a hassle and I could hardly ever hear Flitwick—"

"Harry, I don't care. I need to talk to you now. No excuses."

"Alright, what do you want to talk about?" asked Harry, figuring he had a lot of making-up to do for the way he broke up with her.

Catherine pushed Neville from Harry's side and sat down next to him.

"Harry, darling…"

Harry's eyebrows shot up, and he glanced sideways at Ginny, who looked as if she couldn't believe what she was about to hear. As if girl power were about to let her down.

"I want you back," she finished, taking his hand in hers.

"Uh…"

"From what I've heard you regret breaking up with me, and I'm telling you that I'm willing to give you another chance."

"Catherine, you've got it all—"

"Look, Harry. I love you. You're one of the best guys I've ever met. Please, Harry, put your pride aside and ask me back out."

Seamus looked at Harry as if he was a god, and Ginny looked at Catherine as if she couldn't believe she'd swoop so low.

Harry looked confused.

"Catherine—"

"Yes!" she squealed and jumped at his lips, taking hold of his face and kissing him fiercely.

"You have **got** to be kidding me," said Ginny, looking at the pair in front of her with disbelief.

Harry, still in shock, looked sideways at Ginny, whose mouth was slightly open and at Seamus, who was looking quite impressed with the scene before him.

Harry gently pushed her away, his lips sore from the harsh kiss.

"Catherine…I—we—you see…I'm just not…my feelings for you have changed. I'd like it if we could stay as friends though. But—"

"Y-you mean you don't love me anymore?"

"Catherine…I don't recall ever telling you that I did," said Harry gently and apologetically.

"But…so…that's it?" asked Catherine, sounding somewhat rational.

"Yeah," said Harry. "I'm really sorry, Catherine."

She smiled forcefully. "Don't worry about it Harry." She laughed at herself. "Wow, I feel like an idiot. I'm…I'm going to go now," she said, as if asking him permission, not sure herself.

"Okay," said Harry, and gave her a quick smile.

"Okay," said Catherine, in a tone that looked like she was trying to clear things up for herself.

She got up and left.

That day every girl in Hogwarts talked about the knew-found knowledge that Harry Potter was single again.

* * *

"Where's Hermione?" whispered Ron to Harry as they sat during History of Magic.

He shrugged. "I haven't seen her all day," he whispered back.

"Where d'you reckon she's at? I don't remember seeing her yesterday either."

"Probably sick. She's never missed classes for absolutely no reason."

"Didn't you see her this morning, though?"

"Not even at breakfast now that I think about it."

"Hermione miss the most important meal of the day?"

"Yea, that doesn't sound like her at all. Ron, this is getting me worried."

"Relax. I only asked because I **really **don't want to have to listen to this one drone on," said Ron, nodding at Professor Binns.

"No I mean…what could be wrong with Hermione? Maybe we should go and visit the Hospital Wing, just to check if she's there or not."

"But what if she's not?" asked Ron, looking a bit apprehensive.

Something dawned on Harry. "She got a letter!" he whispered loudly, and waited for everyone to turn away from them again before continuing.

Ron looked at Harry curiously. "What _kind_ of letter?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? Aren't you the only one that could force things out of Hermione?"

"Sure but…it came so late and I was so tired I really didn't bother to ask."

Ron stared at Harry. "How late?"

"Real late, like midnight…no maybe earlier."

"What were you doing with Hermione so late at night?" whispered Ron incredulous.

"I was…no Ron!" said Harry when he caught on.

"So what happened?"

Harry told him all that he had witnessed.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me this yesterday. And you didn't ask what was in the letter?"

"I just told you, no!"

Ron turned to his empty parchment, and stared at it in thought while Harry gave a quick glance to Professor Binns, who simply kept reading monotonously.

Ron turned to Harry suddenly, his eyes wide. "Harry, do you think that the letter was like…you know, the other ones?"

"A threat?" asked Harry. Ron nodded.

Harry looked at his quill. "You know, there's a thought. But wouldn't she tell me?"

"Would she _really_ want to worry you? We both know how you are, Harry. You don't have a care in the world so long as the trouble's surrounding you and you alone. But once it affects the people you care for you …start fretting. And then you have the need to take action and end up putting yourself in **bad** situations."

Harry gave Ron a thanks-a-lot look and went back to staring at his quill.

What if Ron was right? Was his carefree response to the threats, which was no response at all, causing others to receive them instead? Was it a form of motivation they'd hope would work on him?

"But," whispered Harry, looking back at Ron, who had been looking at him the whole time. "Hermione wouldn't miss class because of a letter. Even if it was a threat. She'd probably become cautious…but it's just not like Hermione to miss class for anything."

"She might have spent the whole day in the library trying to find information, you know her."

"She would have been caught and sent to class by now. And anyway, what about yesterday?"

"Then she's with McGonagall and they're discussing the letters. Surely you remember that when in doubt, Hermione either goes to the library or to a teacher."

"Yeah, yeah. But again, what if she's just sick in the hospital wing. It's been _two days_ Ron."

"Wouldn't we be one of the first to know if she were sick?"

"Are you _trying_ to get me worried, Ron?"

"Not at all, mate. I'm just bracing for the worst."

"_What if she's just sick!_" whispered Harry angrily. "You're making it sound as if we're about to find out she's dead."

Ron's eyes went wide and he nodded his disapproval. "That's not funny at all, Harry."

"Does it look like I'm laughing?"

"Could you two shut up?" said Lavender, who didn't bother to whisper, from behind them. "I can't hear what you're saying and your mumbling's getting annoying."

Harry and Ron exchanged meaningful glances. Right after class, they were going to pay a visit to the Hospital Wing.

* * *

"Sorry boys no visitors."

"No, wait! Madame Pomfrey, we just want to know if…Hermione Granger's in there," said Harry, and looked at Ron.

Madame Pomfrey looked confused. "Hermione Granger? Why, no. Was she sick earlier?"

Ron looked at Harry. If Hermione was up to something against school rules, they didn't want to get her in trouble.

"Uh," began Ron, and Harry took over.

"Yes. Yes she was. But she said there was a simple antidote to it, and probably made it herself up in the common room."

Madame Pomfrey beamed. "Oh that Hermione Granger! Always so bright. From the first moment she was in this hospital wing, she started asking me what certain remedies were for what and how did they work. How did you brew them and all precautions. I told her she would make a great nurse one day, and look! She could take care of herself now."

She smiled reminiscently. "Ah well, yes. I must be off, now. I have a few patients here today that I must attend to. Take care, boys," she said, and closed the door to the hospital wing right in their face.

"Nice save back there, Harry," said Ron a good two minutes later. "I was sure Hermione was in for it for not going to class."

"We still don't know if she's really just…**not going to class**."

"Well she's not in the Hospital Wing, and if she's not with McGonagall, then we'll get Hermione in loads of trouble by going off and asking her."

"Yeah, you're right," said Harry, and stopped that the foot of the stairs in thought.

"What is it Harry?"

"We have to find that letter."

"We have to find Hermione. Leave your curiosities for later—"

"What class do you have now?"

"Transfiguration."

"Brilliant! You go to class and see if Hermione's with McGonagall."

"Right Harry," said Ron sarcastically. "Because McGonagall would talk to Hermione about threat letters right in front of her class."

"Well go to her class anyway, see if McGonagall's even there—"

"Sorry, Harry. No-can-do."

"Why not?"

Ron looked at him as if he'd grown another set of eyes. "Because I care for Hermione too! I'm worried just as much as you are, and I doubt I'll be able to concentrate in class wondering whether you've found her or not."

"And if she _is_ with McGonagall!" asked Harry furiously.

"Well if she's _not_ in her room, then I'll show up to class late and see if she's there. Which I seriously doubt."

"Fine," said Harry, and started walking up the stairs.

"Good," said Ron cheerfully. _I don't have to go to class_.

* * *

"Oh you see, _this_ is **not fair**," said Ron, looking around the Common Room. "You each have your own staircase, your own chairs, desks…oh this place is wicked!"

"This way to Hermione's," said Harry as he led Ron up Hermione's staircase. He walked down the Hallway and knocked on Hermione's door.

"Hermione are you in there?" said Harry, and without further ado opened the door.

"Hermione?" said Ron, and went directly to check in the bathroom.

"Not there?" asked Harry.

"Nope. Gosh this place is huge!"

Harry turned to the cabinet that was right next to him and opened the first drawer. He started to carefully search between everything, careful not to make too much of a mess.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for the letter."

"That's a serious invasion of privacy, Harry."

"Not if she doesn't find out."

"And if she does? I don't want to be hearing her mouth go off—"

"We'll tell her we thought it was for her own good. Give her the sob story and tell her we were worried."

"But we are worried."

"Then there you go," said Harry.

"And what if we come across her underwear?" asked Ron, disgusted.

"Hermione doesn't wear thongs," said Harry knowledgeably.

"Right," said Ron, and looked at the cabinet next to him apprehensively. "And you'd know this _how_?"

"It's not like I've seen them!" said Harry, closing the first out of four drawers and moving down to the next one. "I just remember her complaining once that they look so uncomfortable and what not. So…my guess is that she doesn't have any."

"…They're still underwear…and they'll still be Hermione's…and that'll still be disgusting…"

"You know," said Harry angrily, slamming the drawer shut and moving down to the third one. "It's people like _you_ and comments like _that_ that get Hermione to have such a low self-esteem."

"Hermione has a low self-esteem? Funny, it doesn't seem so," said Ron, at last opening the first drawer and looking through it carefully.

"Well it **is** so," said Harry, slamming the third drawer shut and roughly opening the last one of the set.

"Well you don't have to get so mad," said Ron, looking sideways at Harry.

"It just gets me so furious," he said, slamming the last drawer and moving to another set. "That Hermione has to deal with stupid shit like that," he forcefully opened the first drawer, "when Millicent Bullstrode doesn't."

"Well, Millicent will slaughter anyone that says anything she doesn't like."

"So just because Hermione's a sport about it and doesn't curse you senseless, she has to put up with it?" said Harry, slamming the drawer again.

"But I mean…she seems to be a bit…_cocky_ at times. With her grades and all."

"Why do you think she works so hard at school? Because she feels it's the only thing she could be good at. She feels her beauty won't win her a date, and she hopes that perhaps her brain will."

"Wow, Harry, when you put it like that…but Hermione has loads of likeable qualities other than being smart."

"Yeah?" said Harry, who had finished with the third drawer by now and was moving to the last one. "Why don't you tell her all about them one day?"

"No that's okay. I'll leave that to her future husband…if she ever finds one—"

Harry slammed the last drawer extremely loudly and looked at Ron warningly.

"I mean if she finds anyone good enough for her!" said Ron quickly.

Harry turned around and went to her desk, located next to the cabinet he was just searching through. Quickly he opened each one of the compartments, finding nothing but pencils and parchment neatly ordered according to size.

"Nothing here," said Harry, closing the last compartment.

"Nor here," said Ron from his side of the room. "What if she burned it? Got rid of it you know?"

And it dawned on Harry. "Maybe it's in the garbage!" he said.

"Right," said Ron. "Because Hermione would throw away the only evidence she's got. Look if she got rid of it, she'd make sure it was for good—"

"I found it!" said Harry, putting the bin back under Hermione's desk. He walked towards Ron, smoothing out the crumpled piece of parchment.

He stopped midway, both he and Ron freezing on the spot.

They heard the portrait close, and a pair of feet going up the stairs.

"Did you hear that," said Harry in a low voice.

"It's Hermione!" squeaked Ron, who looked paler than usually. "She's gonna kill us!"

"Hush! Not if she doesn't find us, she won't," said Harry, who quickly looked around the room for a place to hide.

Harry pushed Ron ahead of him until they both were in the closet, sliding its door shut just as Hermione entered the room, closing the door behind her.

She looked agitated, and walked briskly further into her room, throwing her cloak onto the bed.

"I'm getting bad vibes already," whispered Ron, and Harry told him to hush.

The door opened again, and a second person entered the room.

"What the hell are you doing here!" said Hermione. It sounded as if she was scared and highly surprised.

Harry and Ron looked at each other with confused faces.

"I needed to talk to you."

Harry and Ron, who were communicating through facial expressions, looked at each other as if they couldn't believe what they had just heard. That voice sounded a lot like—

"How **the hell** did you manage to get in here?"

"I followed you and heard your password."

"You _followed_ me!"

"Yes. We need to talk."

"Malfoy we have nothing to talk about!"

So it **was** him. Harry and Ron looked at each other, eyes wide. What was Malfoy doing in the Head's common room, and what on earth was he doing in H_ermione's_ room?

"Yes we do! Granger if you go **sulking around**—"

"Sulking around!" she screamed.

"Yes, sulking around!" said Draco furiously. "That's all you've done for the past two days!"

Harry had to hold Ron back from running out there and fighting Malfoy for yelling at Hermione.

Ron looked at Harry fiercely. Harry easily met his glare, and nodded his vote against blowing their cover.

"If you go around looking all sullen and depressed, people are going to start asking what's wrong—"

"And so **what** if they do!" screamed Hermione. "Afraid that they'll find out you were with me two nights ago!"

Their jaws dropped.

"I—no—"

"Well if you were so worried, **Malfoy**, that anyone should discover we were together then why did you follow me to my _bedroom_! If you ask me, should anyone see us in here, we'd be caught in a **very** compromising situation."

"Everyone's in class, Granger. If any common room is empty its this one with you and Potter as Heads of the school. I knew Potter must be in class so I decided to have a little chat. With you."

"And if he decides to come into the common room for a forgotten book or…something like that?"

Hermione had her arms crossed in indignation, glaring at the boy in front of her, who glared at her back.

"Surely Potter does not come into this room often, does he?" asked Draco, a twinge of something he won't admit anytime soon overcoming his chest.

"A-as a matter of fact, he does," said Hermione.

"Oh _really_?"

"_Yes_ _really_."

"And _why_, pray tell, is that?"

Hermione looked at Malfoy with anger and curiosity at the same time.

"How the hell did you get in here again?"

"I followed you."

"From where?"

"From when you left the ogre's hut."

"You mean _Hagrid_?" asked Hermione fiercely.

"Same shit."

"And where were you that you saw this?"

"I was at Transfiguration. I sit by the window."

"Ah. And why did you follow me?"

"Because I had had enough of hearing that Hermione Granger had not been in class for two days. That she was terribly ill simply because you let half the female population see your swollen eyes on your way to the half-breed's hut. I didn't want the story spreading—"

She slapped him.

"_It's Hagrid_," said Hermione angrily.

Draco clutched his red cheek, looking back at her with an **angry** glint in his eye.

Hermione couldn't deny that she was about to piss in her robes. She knew better than to slap Draco Malfoy. Especially when no one was around and they were in a room where a bed could be located.

He smirked. Not good.

"You want to touch me Granger? You want to hit me!" he nearly screamed.

Hermione stayed quiet.

Back in the closet, Harry and Ron were straining to hear what was going on after Malfoy's outburst. They looked at each other, and through facial expression basically asked each other if they heard anything.

Ron shrugged and nodded towards the door. Harry nodded.

Ron slid the door about an inch and peered through.

He opened his mouth to scream, but Harry clamped his hand over it. "Shhh!"

Ron mumbled into his hand, nodding toward the door. Harry furrowed his eyebrows and slightly pushed Ron to the side, hand still over his mouth, and peered through.

Harry's eyes went wide in shock, and quickly became full with rage.

He let go of Ron's mouth and motioned to open the door and clobber Malfoy to a pulp, but Ron seized him from the neck and clamped his hands over his mouth.

"_Don't—be—stupid, Harry!_" whispered Ron.

"_Malfoy's…kissing…Hermione!_" he breathed whenever he was able to get his mouth free from Ron's hand.

Ron managed to clamp his hand over it tightly. "_I know. Let's see what happens_…_Okay?"_ he whispered, as if convincing a two-year old that reading was good for you.

Harry stopped struggling and resigned, shoving him off as they both moved to peer through the door.

Hermione pushed him away, and slapped him again. "How _dare_ you—"

Malfoy had grabbed her face and kissed it again, so roughly that both boys couldn't figure out how Hermione wasn't bleeding to death.

Harry made to go after Malfoy. How **dare** his enemy kiss his **best friend**.

_**How dare his best friend kiss his enemy!**_

Once again Ron held Harry back, and Harry didn't give in too much of a hassle. He just looked annoyed that Ron was starting to act more logically than he was.

She pulled herself away again.

"What's wrong, Hermione?"

"_Hermione_?" whispered Ron in horror. "_He just called Hermione, Hermione!"_

"**This! This is wrong, Draco!**"

"_Draco?"_ said Harry in disgust. "Did Hermione just call Malfoy Draco? Is that even allowed?"

"Shh!" whispered Ron. They returned to the little slit where the door was open.

Their eyes went wide and their faces pale. Hermione was making her way to the closet, Draco behind her.

"Oh my God, she's coming!" whispered Ron, and scrambled to Harry's side of the closet where he hoped he could hide. Harry put a finger to his lips.

Nothing.

All they could hear was mumbling, and Harry finally gathered the courage to pass Ron and look through the door. His back was sweaty, and he seriously needed to pee.

Harry couldn't see them. What he was able to see was a layer of clothing on the floor in front of him.

_Dear God what are they doing?_

Suddenly, there was a great slam at the doors of the closet, somewhere in the middle.

Harry stared at it in horror, as did Ron, who had in fact created another peep slit using the other side of the door.

Nasty images of Malfoy and Hermione against the closet door invaded their brains.

"You…you _pushed_…you _dare_ to **push me**!"

It was Malfoy, and neither Harry nor Ron had ever been so relieved in their lives.

"I push you all I want, Malfoy. You don't scare me."

"Well, well, well. Look who's turned so brave."

"Shove it, Malfoy. And get the hell out. You've said all you've had to say."

You're right. I don't want to talk anymore," he said, and both Harry and Ron saw Draco grab Hermione by the waist and smash his lips unwillingly onto hers.

Harry lost it.

He blasted out of the closet, to Draco's surprise and Hermione's horror.

"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HER, **MALFOY**!"

Ron was right behind him, and Hermione went considerably paler.

"How long have you guys been in there?"

"Long enough," said Ron, a look of utter disappointment and disbelief on his face.

"Definitely," said Harry, just as disgusted.

And the last thing either Harry or Ron saw was Malfoy quickly pull out his wand and point it at the two of them, before they fell into a delicious darkness.

* * *

Hermione was sitting between the two beds where Harry and Ron lay at the Hospital Wing early in the morning, two days after the incident.

She was nervous as hell.

_Don't doubt yourself, Hermione. All will be fine. You're a bright witch. Don't think about how you used your best friends as guinea pigs for your first ever memory charms_.

She had first performed it on Harry, and then at Ron. Hopefully she didn't delete too much, nor too little.

Everything had happened so quickly. She poured her heart out to Hagrid, she left, she went to her room…Malfoy somehow got in…

Lately, and Hermione couldn't deny this, he had been using every little excuse to talk to her. Whether it was pleasant, or mere insults…anything worked for him. Hermione didn't know if he was being nicer or meaner than before, but he was definitely giving her more attention nowadays.

She had found it hard to concentrate in her classes with these two in the hospital and the constant glares from every Slytherin. Hermione was sure Pansy ran back to her common room that horrid night and started telling the whole world about her success.

Still, she attended every class, and felt absolutely horrible for not attending two days in a row. She'd never do that again. Even though she was excused, Hagrid's permission, though McGonagall wasn't to thrilled.

She wasn't lost, luckily she had made up all her homework, gotten the class notes, and she was still ahead of all her classes.

She had changed the password to the Head's common room, and couldn't honestly believe she was so careless to have let Malfoy hear it.

She was just so unfocused that day. Between the prank, and her talk with Draco afterwards….

She had ran to find an open entrance, swearing she was never going to get involved with Malfoy again.

She wasn't going to talk to him. Look at him. Kiss him…

Harry started to mumble, shift a bit, and soon his emerald eyes were blinking at the sun.

"Oh man. What happened?"

"You tell me. I found you two like this in my room," lied Hermione. The whole staff had bought her story so far.

"You…you were with Malfoy," he said in revulsion.

'_Shit!_' thought Hermione. _'He remembers! Deny it…deny it all_."

"Excuse me?" she said. She moved to sit on the foot of his bed.

"You…me and Ron, we were in the closet and you were kissing Malfoy. Yeah, yeah that's it," said Harry, and went to hold his head.

"Harry?" asked Hermione testily. "Are you alright?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing. What the hell were you doing with Malfoy!"

"I was _not_ with Malfoy. I would _never_—"

"Don't lie, Hermione. Don't lie."

"I'm not lying!" she said. And it was then when Hermione Granger realized that she _could_ lie if she really needed to.

"You…kissed Malfoy."

"How'd he even get in, Harry?" asked Hermione.

"He…he…I don't remember."

"Harry! Get it through your head. I was NOT with Malfoy. I mean…Harry does that even make sense!"

Harry looked confused, and looked at her suspiciously. He was about to say something when Ron woke up.

"What on bloody earth are we doing here!" said Ron, and clutched his head at once with a small "ahhh…"

"Ron. Right we saw Hermione kissing Malfoy from the closet of her room?" asked Harry, and Ron looked at Hermione accusingly.

_Okay. Looks like I'm not so bright after all_.

"**_You what!_**"

Hermione's heart leapt to her throat. He didn't remember!

"I swear I did no such thing!" she turned to Harry. "Are you sure you didn't dream it? You two have been here for two days."

"Two days!" said Ron.

"No I didn't dream it…did I?"

Hermione looked at Ron. "He says I was kissing Malfoy in my room…"

Ron looked at Harry, who tried to get the story straight in his head. "No! It was more…Malfoy was kissing you forcefully. Yea and you slapped him and he kissed you again. And he yelled at you and he kissed you again. And…it's all a blur…"

"And for what reason would Malfoy ever want to kiss me!"

Harry went a bit pink with agitation, but Ron burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" he asked savagely.

"Hermione…kissing…Malfoy! Classic!"

"No not a classic. A dream," said Hermione, and looked at Harry.

"Fine," he said. "Come to think of it, it _does_ seem pretty farfetched."

"_Pretty farfetched_!" asked Ron, still laughing. "That's got a chance of one in a _zillion_!"

"Alright, alright! I get it," said Harry frustrated. He looked at Hermione and cracked a grin.

"Sorry Hermione. Didn't mean to jump at your throat like that."

Hermione laughed…more relieved than anything. "Do it cause I'm smarter, not because I'm snogging Malfoy. I'd never do that."

* * *

**A.N: I LOVE YOU REVIEWERS! YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST!**

**There was one that was really long…and I was so giddy I was close to being high.**

**And it's just that ALL reviews are so great. It's really inspired me to write!**

**In this chapter we see a tiny bit of just how Harry and Ron would react to such news of Hermione being with Draco.**

**And we see that Draco isn't really good at being mushy. He's in Slytherin…give him a break!**

**AND Hermione DARED TO RISK THE MEMORIES OF HER BEST FRIENDS just so that they wouldn't know that she and Malfoy are more than enemies. (I think I'll use those last three words for a chapter title.) HOW DARE SHE!**

**Good thing she's smart.**

**Lol. I know while reading Harry and Ron were stuck in the closet…some of you were thinking about that R.Kelly series and his story about being stuck in a closet.**

**That's not where I got it from. It just came to my head that there's more room in a closet than in the cabinets they were searching. And they can't hear much than from the bathroom…**

(If you guys felt a bit lost during this scene…it's ok. That's how I was hoping to make you feel. Lost like Harry and Ron. Later on it'll all become a bit clearer…though what happened isn't exactly a great turning point in the story…or is it?)

**NEXT CHAPTER:**

**I hope to put in a bit more of Parvati and her…depression. Definitely more Blaise and goofing off.**

**Then of course, Draco's going to make a confession to Hermione…so it's not just comical this upcoming chapter.**

**TERRY WILL BE BACK. **

**And Hermione MIGHT JUST….I'll leave you with the suspense.**

**LOVE YOU ALL…. P-L-E-A-S-E R-E-V-I-E-W!**


	18. His Apology

**Chapter Eighteen:**

The weeks passed into mid December without much event. Draco, Hermione realized, was still trying to talk to her every way he could.

Insults left, right, and center.

Constant glances.

And the usual teasing in class.

Neither she, Harry or Ron really knew why Malfoy had taken to heart this new mission, though Hermione might have had an idea.

It was just that it seemed like he went extremely out of his way lately.

"Watch it, Potter. One wrong move and the little mudblood there'll bite your hand off," said Malfoy loudly, and all the Slytherins in the potions classroom snickered.

"At least we'll get the potion right, unlike you two. You're not very bright to begin with and Parkinson's far too busy looking at her reflection to even care."

Malfoy sneered, and Hermione gave Harry a grateful shove, and smiled at him.

Something Malfoy didn't miss.

"Well would you look at that, Pansy," said Draco in a strained voice, looking somewhere between furious and disgusted. "The little kitty's purring up to Pothead."

The Slytherins burst out into laughter. Professor Snape was deaf to it all, carefully retreating to the storage room in the back in order to let Malfoy continue.

"And the slut is laughing pathetically at the **bastard's** bad jokes," said Harry, looking at Pansy as she stopped laughing like the bimbo she is, and start sneering like the Slytherin she was born to be.

The Gryffindors laughed.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for using profanity!" said Snape, coming out just in time to take sides at crucial moments…as always.

"Twenty!" exclaimed Harry.

Snape smirked, carrying two jars of dead roaches to his desk, his robes swishing as he went. Silence all around.

"I do believe, Potter, that I have made it clear for many years now that profanity is inexcusable in my classroom."

"And Malfoy? He hasn't ever used profanity in this classroom?"

"None that I have heard," said Snape easily.

"None that you want to hear, you mean," muttered Harry.

"Did you say something, Potter?"

Harry looked at Snape with pure loathing and somewhat of satisfaction.

"Actually Professor, I—ow!" He looked fiercely at Hermione. She had stepped as hard as she could on his foot, and once she had caught his attention, gave him a pointed glare, warning him that he knew better than to do what he was itching to accomplish. Tell Snape off.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that, Mr. Potter," said Snape delicately.

Harry ignored him. He seemed to be having a secret argument between himself and Hermione.

Their eyes said it all. To each other at least.

'_Don't do it, Harry, don't do it! You'll get in trouble and he'll win no matter what.'_

_'Hermione I hate you.'_

In actuality they really didn't know what the other was saying, but they had a very good idea.

"I'm sorry, Mr. And Mrs. Potter, am I interrupting something?" smirked Snape, and most Slytherins snickered along.

At this they both turned to Snape, a disgusted look on their features.

"_Mr. and Mrs. Potter!_" they said in unison.

Even the Gryffindors laughed at this.

Harry and Hermione spun around to glare at them, unable to believe that they'd side with Snape.

The rest of that day all that Gryffindors talked about was how interesting Hermione Potter sounded.

On another occasion, they were in their Care of Magical Creatures class.

"Right, then. All o' yeh come n' get yeselves a good two jars' full a unicorn urine and a basket full a pixie skeletons. Hurry up den, we 'aven't got all day."

Once everyone settled with the necessary instruments, though it sounded more like ingredients to a potion, Hagrid started explaining the importance of each and how to differentiate them from others alike.

"Now if yeh lot'll open a jar a unicorn urine," began Hagrid. "Yeh'd notice the difference between dat and the thestral urine we examined yesterday."

Thestral urine had looked almost like mud. Disgustingly colored in a way that you'd fear disease should you be within ten feet from it. As opposed to unicorn urine, which looked so clear it looked somewhat near water.

As jars were opened, another difference was quickly spotted.

"Oh, this is _disgusting_!" said Dean.

The air was suddenly filled with complaints and an unbearable, foul smell of rotten, 50-yr old eggs.

"Ugh, God, it smells like Granger!"

That was none other than Draco Malfoy, of course.

"Oh please. This is Granger with perfume."

And that was Zabini, who seemed to never miss an opportunity to insult, period.

Every Slytherin and some Gryffindor girls laughed. That wasn't including Hermione, who looked at Malfoy nonchalantly.

"I assume this brings back memories of your mother?" she asked easily, turning back to close the jar she had just opened.

Hagrid became apprehensive. Several Gryffindor girls gasped and all Slytherins simply stayed silent, waiting what Malfoy's reaction will be.

"No, Granger, not many mothers use this as perfume."

"Which is why I remembered yours so vividly," she retorted quickly, looking at him as if nothing had ever happened between them…other than the normal hate and loathing.

Harry smiled lopsided at Ron, who responded with a grin. Man, were they proud of Hermione. How could he have ever believed that nightmare where she was snogging Malfoy was true?

Malfoy glared at Hermione, almost unbelievingly. Hagrid cleared his throat.

"Righ' den. I—uh—dink we should all jus' turn to de baskets an' start examinin' the pixie skeletons…"

Yes. Every chance Malfoy got, he'd take with greed. It came to a point where Hermione was absolutely immune to it, and it just annoyed her like any insistent mosquito would.

Little by little, she was forgetting about Draco Malfoy as anything other than an enemy…and it was killing him.

* * *

"I assure you all that is said in this office remains in this office. Now Ms. Brown, what is it that you had wanted to share with me?"

Lavender ran her hand through her hair, looking around the office as if deciding whether she had made the right choice or not.

"Ms. Brown? Why don't you take a seat and we'll start from there."

"Right, Professor."

Lavender rushed to sit on the chair in front of McGonagall's desk, fumbling with her freshly manicured hands; she looked hesitantly at her Head of house. "Right," she said again.

McGonagall looked expectantly at her, looking a bit impatient but curious altogether.

"Ms. Brown," she said sternly, folding her thin hands over a small pile of student essays. "I assume you have something important to tell me, otherwise you would not find yourself in such a nervous state, or in this office. Now, what is it that you have to discuss with me?"

Lavender took a deep breath and looked up to McGonagall. She opened her mouth to speak her mind, but found it difficult to express what she herself did not know.

She closed her mouth, flashed an insecure smiled, and went back to looking around indecisively.

"Ms. Brown, I haven't—"

"You know what, Professor? I've changed my mind. I have nothing of great importance to tell you. Deeply sorry for the inconvenience, but I'll be on my way back to the tower now. I've got to study for an upcoming potions exam."

She got up hastily and walked quickly to the door, opened it, and before she left, bade the head of Gryffindor house a good night.

* * *

"Why won't you just…_share_?"

"Share! Is that what you call it?"

"Call **what**?"

"What _else_ Ron? Giving you my homework to copy off of."

"You're helping a friend, Hermione!"

"I'm not helping you _one bit_."

"Can't you just…share…or else—"

"Or else you'll just search into my bag and take it anyway."

"—or _else_ I'll fail the class, not being able to graduate with you and Harry, and thus never talk to you again."

"Doing _one_ homework on your own will **not** cause such chaos. As a matter of fact, it might just help you learn something."

"Lots of learning I'll do once I've taken the course twice," muttered Ron, and quickly packed up his belongings, rushing out of the library looking all hot and bothered.

Let's face it. The only real reason why Ron had gone searching for Hermione was for that and that alone. Homework. Thanks to Hermione he wasn't anywhere near failing any class, so she really couldn't see why she should be obliged into giving him her hard work.

Maybe it's just the way he asked sometimes. Like she was _supposed_ to give him her homework to copy off of.

He hadn't even tried to strike up conversation to create a pleasant environment; it was all too awkward for that. So, she guesses, he just skipped the awkwardness and went down to the point.

Which led straight to an argument.

And now Hermione was sitting all alone in the library, pointlessly shuffling through some papers trying to pretend as if what had just happened wasn't affecting her.

But it was.

Good God, why can't she and Ron get along lately? There has to be something going on. They used to get along just fine back in their first years in Hogwarts. In fifth year they were starting to become a bit strained, but for completely different reasons.

Now they could hardly keep up a conversation. Something had to be wrong. Who's fault was it?

Seeing that her shuffling of old school papers just caused noise (because she wasn't paying one ounce of attention to any of the parchments in front of her) she came to an abrupt stop, looking as if she had just ran a whole mile.

"Lost something, Granger?" came the amused, sickeningly sarcastic voice.

"What brings you around here? The Restricted section happens to be on the other side of the library," she said with disdain.

"I must say, what could possibly be the cause for which you think I'd like to find _anything_ in the restricted section of _any_ library?"

Hermione laughed scathingly. "Of course. I guess you've already got one at home, then?"

"Now, now," he smirked evilly. "You mustn't accuse anyone, Granger. Innocent until proven guilty, remember?"

"Quoting Dumbledore now, are you?"

"He says some pretty good things now and then, you know. Useful from…_all_ angles."

"And of course, you're first to notice."

"You're not the only smart one here, you know."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at the Slytherin Prince. "What is it that you're here for, Zabini? Certainly you don't expect to have a somewhat civil conversation with your best friend's enemy."

"No," he said easily. He leaned against the nearest bookshelf, and in spite of herself, Hermione couldn't help but admit that he was incredibly handsome. A complete asshole, but handsome as well.

"I didn't think so," said Hermione, turning to start yet another essay. She started flipping through her Ancient Runes notes when Zabini sat down two seats away from her.

Hermione, who had been reading a famous translation, looked at Zabini from the corner of her eye before finally turning fully to meet his piercing stare.

One eyebrow was delicately raised, looking at him expectantly.

"What is it about you, Hermione Granger, that's got Draco acting like an absolute fool?" he asked, studying her closely.

Hermione's other eyebrow shot up to meet the other, looking at the boy in front of her as if he'd absolutely lost his mind. "Excuse me?"

"I mean…I don't think it's serious…"

"Don't think _what's_ serious?" said Hermione fiercely. She hated being lost.

"…But then again I don't recall him ever going so out of his way to make someone's life miserable and while at it make a complete idiot of himself…"

"**What** are you talking about, Zabini?" she asked furiously.

"I'm trying to figure out why Draco—pardon, _Malfoy_—would get so affected by you of all people. It's not like anyone but me notice it. Everyone else is enjoying it, actually, and think it's great that he's doing it. He's like God every time he does. But I still don't get it. Why does he bother you so much? I swear his tact could be so childish sometimes…"

"Tact? What _tact_? Zabini what the hell are you talking about!"

"Alright you're smart, I'll give you that. You're waist, I'll give you that too. But what else? What could possibly attract Draco to insult you so much?" said Blaise, finally looking at her as if just realizing she was there.

Hermione stared at him for a moment, everything becoming clear to her. She looked at him angrily.

"Oh **you** are **pathetic**," she said furiously, opening a textbook for the completely wrong essay.

He smirked.

"I mean," she said, roughly flipping through the pages, "If you haven't yet figured out why Malfoy's been an ass to me for the past seven years…then you don't deserve to live. Honestly, what kind of question could **that** one be?"

"Are you going to answer my question?"

Hermione stopped flipping pointlessly through her textbook and turned to look at him quickly; a sarcastic, angry, and highly annoyed look in her eyes.

"_Yes_ I'm going to answer your question, Zabini…"

"Wonderful."

"The reason why _Malfoy_ has been going so out of his way **these past seven years** to make my life miserable is because I'm friends with Harry…and I'm muggleborn. Malfoy hates Harry, and Malfoy hates muggleborns. It's a known fact and you being his best friend, should know that."

"Granger, that's not why he's insulting you."

"Oh no?" she asked, more furious than ever. "Has he found other reasons? Well, maybe it's because I helped Harry capture his father and send him to Azkaban."

Zabini sneered. "You pathetic little mudblood. You don't get it, do you?…Come to think of it, I don't either…"

"Zabini, you're wasting my time and I'd rather you not," snapped Hermione. "So leave."

Blaise smirked and raised himself from his chair. He bent over until he and Hermione's face were about two inches apart.

"_Feisty,_" he hissed into her face, and turned around, stalking royally out of the library.

He passed Harry, and shoved him on his way, who shoved him back and kept on walking like nothing had happened.

"What was that about?" he asked angrily, setting his books down and taking a seat across from Hermione.

"The same, stupid thing Slytherins do. Why?"

"Because when I came in I had the nasty experience of seeing his face about a centimeter away from yours."

"So what, you think I was snogging him?" asked Hermione, a ghost of a smile on her features.

Harry made a face. "Yeah, yeah. No need to remind me of **that **blunder."

"It was pretty shocking."

"You're telling me?"

"I mean it was absolutely out of nowhere."

"Don't _I_ know it."

"And I was so convinced Harry Potter had finally lost his mind."

"And I was hoping for it. Anything was better than to see you and—"

"I don't even want to hear it, it's so nauseating."

"Oh that's an understatement," said Harry, looking at Hermione expectantly.

She sighed. "What do you want, Potter?"

"If you could please lend me the Astronomy essay, I would most highly appreciate it," he said, flashing a devilish grin.

Hermione laughed. "Are you trying to charm me with your smile?"

"Is it working?"

"Sure it is," said Hermione. "But not on me."

Harry's grin faded and looked at Hermione highly confused. She nodded to her left, and Harry turned to see a table full of girls staring dreamily at him.

He smiled awkwardly and gave them a short wave. They burst into giggles.

"That's what happens when you're single," said Hermione

"Oh really? And where's **your** fan club?"

Hermione laughed. "I said 'this is what happens when _you're_ single.' Not when _I'm_ single," she said and handed him her essay. "Be careful with it, I worked very hard."

Harry smiled gratefully, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Love you, Hermione, simply love you!"

He swung his book bag over his shoulder and ran out of the library.

"…_stupid bitch_…" she heard one of the girls from the table next to her say.

And it wasn't long before Hermione had packed her things and left, fearing an ambush from a bunch of jealous giggly girls.

* * *

Blaise entered the common room, which was buzzing with parchment being shuffled about, textbook pages being turned, and quills scratching away.

He spotted Draco off at a table full of books opened and pieces of parchment scattered around. He was facing the whole common room, a single yellow light from a nearby torch illuminating his homework.

Blaise smirked to himself. Draco was a hard worker when he felt like being one. Just like _he_ was.

They were both really smart, but they used their good looks to their advantage and made pathetically obsessed girls do their homework. But for some reason, Draco didn't abuse of their gift like Blaise did. He abused it in every other which way, but not in the sense where it came to homework.

Most of the time.

Blaise walked up to Malfoy's desk, and seeing as there was no chair, quietly ordered a third year off the nearest one and took it. He placed it in front of Draco's desk so that they were across from each other, and leaned onto the desk.

"Guess what?" he whispered.

Draco glanced up, apparently just noticing that he was there.

He continued writing. "What?"

"I just finished talking to Granger," said Blaise calmly, studying Draco's reaction.

"Is that so?" he asked nonchalantly, continuing to flip through pages of various books.

Blaise looked at him wearily. "What are you doing?"

"Homework."

"Why?"

"Because that's the reason we go to class. To show off to your professors that you've done your homework superbly well."

"Or that the girl you slept with a week ago did it superbly well," said Blaise, lazily picking up one of the essays already finished and skimming it.

"But come the hour of the test—"

"You know who you remind me of?" asked Blaise from behind the parchment. "Granger."

He looked over the parchment and at Draco, who was looking at him with a 'be-careful-what-you-say' look.

Blaise smiled. "You know," he said lightly. "When she's talking to Weasley about giving him her homework…"

Draco sighed in surrender, putting his quill down and leaning back on his chair. "I see you wish to talk about the mudblood."

"Oh don't tell me you're not one bit curious on what I talked to her about."

"Why should I care? If this conversation included you and Granger, I assume it had both no point and a lot of insults."

Blaise grinned and placed the parchment back on the desk with ease. "I see you talk from personal experience."

"I have the misfortune."

"What Granger and I said to each other is not important—"

"—Because I doubt logic was a factor—"

"…And because she didn't really get it anyway."

Draco studied his friend. He knew he had to be getting somewhere, but Draco wasn't too sure he wanted to get there just yet.

"So what's the point of us talking about Granger?"

Blaise looked at Draco carefully. "You tell me."

Draco sighed. "Where are you getting at with this?"

Blaise looked around to make sure no one else was listening and lowered his voice to a tone hardly audible.

"What's your progress with Granger?"

"Getting there," said Draco, scowling.

Blaise looked at him again, and checked for eavesdroppers one last time.

"You haven't…you know…began to _like_ her, have you?"

"_Like her_? What stupid shit is that!"

"Look, Malfoy. I've seen the way you're stealing glances at her, bothering her every way you can—"

"Haven't I always done that?"

"Bother her, yes. Though not to the point where you go desperately out of your way to do so."

"You know you're the only one complaining. And I _don't _go desperately out of my way for anyone," snarled Draco, crossing his arms in slight indignation.

"Fine, then. What about you constantly looking at her? What have you to say for yourself?"

"That you're seeing things."

"Oh don't give me that," said Blaise moodily, leaning back on his chair.

"It's the only explanation I have for your idiocy," shrugged Draco, unfolding his arms to continue his homework.

He reached for his quill, and Blaise grabbed his wrist tightly, forcing fierce eye contact.

"**You _cannot_ fall for Granger**," he muttered menacingly. "She's a Gryffindor and _you_ are a Slytherin."

Draco yanked his hand free and looked at him angrily. "Who ever said I was falling for Granger?"

"You've never paid a girl so much attention."

"I don't have many female enemies."

"If she's really your enemy then you'd try and steer clear from her."

"But then how am I supposed to get her for our bet?"

"There's no way you think insulting her's going to get her to fall in love with you."

"Oh don't act like you know her," muttered Draco fiercely.

"And you _do_!" muttered Blaise just as angrily. "It's _common sense_, Malfoy. You sweet talk to a girl, not insult her. You're acting like a first year with a crush."

"Oh **that** is **sick**," whispered Draco. "Do you seriously think I could like someone like **Granger**?"

Blaise's fierce stare seemed to falter. He leaned back on his chair, took Draco's quill and started twirling it between his fingers.

"All I'm saying is that you'd better not."

"And all I'm going to tell you is that you don't need to worry. There is nothing that attracts me to Granger to a point where I shall shame the house of Slytherin. Mark my words. Nothing."

* * *

"_Wicked_, Harry! You got the essay!" said Ron, smiling in awe as Harry plopped onto the chair across from him, a table where they'd start their homework in between them.

"All you have to do is create conversation and then ask nicely," answered Harry, placing the essay on the table and searching his bag for a quill.

"I can do the whole asking nicely…but the conversation part's got me tongue-tied."

"I've noticed."

"It's a bit sad, isn't it? The whole thought that Hermione and I have drifted apart."

Harry looked at Ron a bit accusingly. "And who's fault do you reckon that be?"

"Certainly not mine!"

"Oh you're funny. Then I assume it's all Hermione's."

"She's the one being a grouch! All touchy and everything. Always on my case about grades and _responsibility_."

"She's the Hermione we've always known and loved. Honest, you're missing out on a lot of…interesting things."

Ron made a face. "Spare me on the bloomer conversations."

"We don't only talk about how she doesn't like thongs. We talk about…everything."

"Everything?"

"Everything. From what's her favorite subject to who's given me the best hand job."

"Are you serious? She knows what those things are?"

Harry looked at Ron angrily. "She knew what they were before **we **did, so don't even go there."

"Well…anyhow, I just can't talk to her like that."

"You could hardly talk to her at all," muttered Harry, finally having found a quill and frustratingly tossing it onto the table.

Ron looked at Harry indignantly. "And I assume that's my fault?"

"Hermione's still Hermione. It's you that's changed."

"Maybe I'm still me and we finally got to a point where we can't stand each other!" said Ron, his face turning a light shade of red.

Harry looked intently at Ron, who avoided his stare at all costs, as he placed his book bag on the floor.

"Why _is_ it that you and Hermione don't get along? Or better yet phrased; why is it that you can't stand Hermione anymore?"

"She can't stand me either!" he said stubbornly.

"That's only because you never really stay long enough for her to think the contrary. Frankly, Hermione's acted like that with you from day **one**. You're the one that's changed."

Ron's shade of red deepened only a bit. "Harry just drop it, alright?"

Harry reached for his quill, still looking at Ron, who was pretending to read Hermione's essay thoroughly.

"You know, you _could_ just tell me and get it out of your chest."

"Harry I said **drop it**! I have nothing to tell…"

* * *

Parvati Patil laid in her four-poster bed, the curtains concealing her presence.

She leaned against her headboard, knees to her chest as her face drowned in tears. In her hands she held her pillow, using it as an alternative to screaming and sobbing her deep secret. Every time emotion swelled beyond her control, she'd squeeze the pillow with every bit of force her tiny fists could muster. She'd even go to pulling it opposite ways or even biting it.

She still remembered it all so clearly. Everything.

His sweaty skin pressing against her figure, harshly thrusting himself into her. Her legs numb. Her voice rasp. His fat arms paralyzing her from any movement. His lips all over her.

His moans. Her cries. Her nails digging into his flesh the best way she could. It was all too much for her.

She heard a rip come from between her hands and realized she had…once again…ripped the pillow. She pulled father apart, feathers now spilling onto her feet like leaves near winter.

More angry and lonely tears sprouted from her eyes as she threw the pitiful pillow to the foot of her bed, causing the feathers to adorn the air above her bed like a snowy day. She wearily reached for her wand within her robes, shakily pointing it at the pillow, and muttering a quick _"Reparo._"

Slowly but steadily the feathers filed into the pillow, ending with the threads sewing themselves together.

She stared emptily at the pillow, wand still held high. Her face was blotchy, her eyes puffy and her head was throbbing. Still staring as if dazed, she lowered her wand to her side.

How could she ever live with herself? After what she had been through, she didn't want to live period.

The door to the dorm opened and closed.

"Parvati?" came the all too familiar voice.

The curtains to her bed were pulled back, allowing Lavender's face to emerge through.

"What do you want?" came the hollow voice.

"Why are you always like this, Parvati? You'll get wrinkles…"

Parvati let out a sarcastic breath, no expression on her face. Lavender's greatest worry…greatest burden…was getting wrinkles…

Lavender would never understand. She would feel sorry. Tell her everything would be okay…but it wouldn't. How can _anything_ be okay after something so atrocious?

She could already imagine it. Lavender would fling herself onto Parvati, offering what she'd think was a comforting hug. She'd cry because what had happened was "_awful."_ And then she'd claim that she was always there for her. That she'd never leave her side, and that if she ever needed to talk she'd be there. She'd say something along the lines of "_I know how horrible that must have been._"

But she wouldn't. No one would ever know. No one would ever understand what it was to have him make you his…

A tear escaped Parvati's eye as she stared ahead of her, face emotionless.

Somewhere in the distance she heard Lavender talk once again of her plan to get Draco Malfoy back. She was trying to cheer her up, but talking of Slytherins was not the best way to go about things.

"Parvati…Parvati! Are you even listening to me!"

Parvati turned slowly to look at her best friend, her eyes empty…again.

Lavender decided to ignore this…again.

"Why are you hiding behind these curtains, anyway? Are you trying to deprive this room of your beauty?" she joked, fully pulling back the curtains and finally sitting on the bed.

She looked quizzically at Parvati, her stare turning sad and absolutely pitiful. "Tell me what's kept you so down lately."

_Lately? Lately! She'd been like this for almost over a month._

"It's nothing," came the monotone reply.

"Parvati, I'm worried about you."

_Oh really? Could have fooled me, seeing as all you talk about is Malfoy._

"So worried…that I…"

Parvati turned to Lavender, a curious look in her eyes.

"I went to McGonagall about it."

"_You what!_"

Lavender turned apprehensive. "Well, it's not like I _told_ her anything. What would I say? I myself don't know what on bloody earth is going on with you."

Parvati relaxed. "Nothing's going on in my life, so don't go to any other professors about this.

"Parvati—"

"Parvati _what_!"

"What the hell is wrong with you!"

"Nothing! Just leave me alone, okay!" yelled Parvati.

"Nothing's going on with you? You just decided to go about all gloomy like I died or something."

"…give me a break…"

"Why won't you just tell me what the hell is up with you!"

"Cause I don't feel like it."

"You're worrying me. Is it because you finally realized that Draco's fallen in love with me? Are you mad that he didn't fall in love with you when you were going out with him?"

Parvati looked at Lavender incredulously.

"Look," continued Lavender. "I know that it upsets you…but I'd hope that you'd be happy for me. Gosh! How could you be such a selfish friend!"

Parvati's eyes filled up with tears that weren't due to sadness, or hurt. Just…anger.

She got up from her bed, and stormed out of the dorm, leaving a very pompous Lavender sitting in all her guilty glory.

* * *

Hermione stepped out of the Head's portrait, remembering that the password had once again changed for about the second time since Malfoy had followed her in.

She was in a good mood. She had finished her homework early, was prepared to be a know-it-all for her classes tomorrow, and had just finished _Hogwarts: A History_ for the millionth time. That always got her in a good mood.

And finding nothing else to do, she decided that she should take a placid walk around the school. Should any professors find her, it was still early enough to say that she was doing her hallway checks.

She turned to the corridor that led to the kitchens. Come to think of it…she _was_ a bit hungry. She really didn't have much to eat at dinner.

Walking with a goofy glad-to-be-living smile on her face, she was halfway to the kitchens when she heard a small, hurt and hushed cry come from somewhere in the distance.

Hermione's smile slowly faded as her eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. She slowly turned around, and stood quiet.

Another sob.

"Would you _shut up_ you stupid slut!" came a harsh whisper.

Hermione's eyes became alarmed as she placed her hair behind her ears, attentive to listen to more.

She started walking towards the sound, looking around the first corner to make sure she wouldn't be seen, and continuing to walk to the next.

She heard a slap echo loudly, and a short scream issue at the same time. Hermione stopped cold, reaching for her wand and pushed herself against the wall. She slowly walked towards the corner.

"_You bastard_," came the loud whisper, shortly followed by what sounded like another slap.

"Hush! You've nothing calling me that!"

A choked sob was the last thing Hermione heard before she rounded the corner and received the shock of her life.

"_Parvati?_"

She was being held by her neck against the wall by Crabbe. Her nose and the corner of her mouth were bleeding as she sobbed for air.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she, too, took in the shock of seeing Hermione.

"Well look who's here to join the _party_? None other than Hogwart's best…_Hermione Granger_," snarled Crabbe, looking up and down at Hermione.

He didn't seem to be too impressed.

"Crabbe what do you think you're—"

"I suggest you leave, Granger, or I assure you you'll regret it."

"Hermione—"

Crabbe quickly slapped Parvati with the back of his free hand, letting go of her neck altogether.

She fell to a heap on the floor, clutching her cheek and sobbing quietly.

"How _dare_ you…"

"**Shut it**, Granger," he said roughly, pulling Parvati up to her knees by her hair. "What happens here is none of your business. You didn't see **anything**."

"You let go of her right now," muttered Hermione, raising her wand at him for effect.

"Or what?"

"Or I'll make you," she answered apprehensively.

She slowly walked towards him, looking significantly at Parvati so as to indicate him to let her go.

He threw her to his side, causing her to bump her head against the wall before falling weak to the ground.

She grasped her head and began to cry in silence.

Acting more out of emotion than out of logic, Hermione ran to Parvati and kneeled down beside her.

"Are you alright? Do you need to go to the hospital wing?"

Crabbe grabbed Hermione by the elbow, heaving her to her feet and pushing her away.

"She's fine," he growled, his eyes blazing. "Now unless you want that to change, I suggest you leave and say nothing about what you've seen."

Rage filled Hermione. Crabbe reminded her of those machos that beat woman. Those abusive husbands she's sworn countless times to never marry.

Blind with fury, she raised her wand. "Why you conniving, good-for-nothing son of a bitch!" she muttered angrily.

Crabbe looked at the wand hesitantly, before shifting his weight slightly so as to look past Hermione.

"Potter?"

Hermione turned around, and had less than a second to register that no one was there before Crabbe roughly made for her wand. "Give—me—that."

"—Let—go—"

"Fine," said Crabbe, and just as quickly as he let go, he whipped out his own wand. "_Expelliarmus_!"

Hermione's wand flung out of her hand and fell quite the distance behind her.

He smirked.

"How do you intend to play hero now that you're disarmed, Granger?" he asked, pressing his wand onto her neck.

Hermione took a small step back, but refused to retreat any further. She had to admit that she didn't like the fact that someone as thick as Crabbe had just disarmed her. She wouldn't hurt her pride any further by showing intimidation.

She looked at Parvati, and wondered what it was that she did to get herself tangled with this creep.

Parvati looked scared, that being the understatement of the century. She had stopped crying, and was looking between Hermione and Crabbe as if waiting for her death sentence.

Hermione looked back at Crabbe, and had the disgrace to see that he was openly looking at her body. All of the sudden she was glad she didn't have perfect measurements.

"What do you want Crabbe? What is it that's made you treat Parvati like trash?"

"That's not any of your business!"

"Hermione…Hermione don't—"

Crabbe spun around to look at Parvati, wand still against Hermione. "Shut up you—"

Taking advantage of the position, Hermione made for his wand, surprised at how firm his grip was.

"Get off you—stupid—little mudblood!" he hissed, but Hermione wasn't letting go.

They struggled, each trying to wrench the wand from the other.

Crabbe, out of desperation or simply because it was the way he was, used all his weight to slam Hermione against the wall.

Her face tightened in pain, but she knew that if she let go, it could be one of the last things she did for the next week.

Crabbe pressed against her, sweat visible on his upper lip.

"You're a strong one, aren't you?" he whispered, an inch away from her face. He tried to pull the wand again, but Hermione held on.

He stepped back, dragging Hermione with him, and once again slamming her against the wall, locking her there with his own weight.

"Why are you even here, Granger?" he whispered into her ear. "You're not the one I want…but that could be arranged."

Hermione's eyes widened. She wasn't too sure what it was that he meant by that, but she was sure enough to swear that it wasn't good.

…_You're not the one I want…_

"Parvati! Parvati, go!" yelled Hermione, as loud as she could.

"**Stay where you are**," said Crabbe firmly over his shoulder. "Move and you'll regret it."

Parvati stood up, and stayed rooted to her spot. If it wasn't today…it might be some other day.

"Parvati—"

Crabbe pressed harder against her. Each still fighting for the wand.

"Parvati," she breathed. "Go. Go, now! I'll be fine,** just leave**!"

Parvati stalled for a couple of more seconds, wondering if she'd be wrong in leaving her alone.

"**Don't you dare**."

That alone made Parvati dash off for the safety of her common room, stumbling along the way.

"Patil. _Patil!_"

"She's—gone."

Crabbe turned to her. "Let go of my wand, mudblood," he muttered menacingly.

"I—don't—think—so, dammit, Crabbe! Can't you ease off a bit!" she said fiercely, noting that her breathing was becoming incredibly strained.

"Do you _know_ how long I've had to wait to get her alone again?" he growled.

He stepped away from her, pulling with all his might for his wand.

Hermione held on, being slightly pulled around.

At last Crabbe's strength overpowered hers as he used one hand to pull his wand and the other to push Hermione away.

As soon as she realized her loss, she ran with all her might for her wand that lay far down the corridor

"_Impedimenta!" _

A green light flashed past Hermione's ear and hit a knight. Ropes wrapped around it, causing the knight to tilt forward and fall with a loud crash.

Hermione came to a halt as the knight scattered to pieces on the floor ahead of her.

"_Rictusempra!"_

Another green light flashed past her, though nowhere near her. She jumped over the knight's many parts and continued running down the hall.

_Almost there_..,

"_Crucio!_"

Another knight fell, but this time backwards into another one, which ultimately fell onto a running Hermione, unexpectedly thrashing her to the floor.

A knight's metal was very heavy, and Hermione found herself trapped under the armor.

She twisted herself so that both her hands were flat onto the floor ahead of her, and slowly started crawling out from under it. She already felt the bruises forming.

Heavy footsteps were getting closer, and she felt her heart start racing. She finally made it out and started crawling on all fours towards her wand…there was no time to stand up…she was so close…

A brute hand clenched his rough fingers onto her hair and pulled her up.

"You've messed everything up," whispered Crabbe into her ear, bending down to one knee.

Hermione winced at the pain radiating from her scalp, and tried to pry his hands off.

"Do you know what happens when someone…_anyone_…messes up a Slytherin's plan? **My** plan!"

He shook her head for emphasis, causing a painful gasp followed by an angrily clenched jaw to issue from Hermione.

Crabbe bent closer to her face and licked from her cheek to her temple.

Hermione tried to pull away, but he held his firm grip. He laughed into her hair, "You know Granger…you're not so bad…"

"**Don't touch me**," threatened Hermione. Crabbe smirked.

"Or what, mudblood? You'll read a book in front of me? Surely you'll remember that that's all you **could** do without a wand."

Hermione looked two yards ahead of her where her wand lay uselessly on the cold marble floor. If only she could break free for enough time to just hex him into next year…she'd be safe.

"Actually Crabbe," she breathed, "I can do much more than just read a book in front of you. For example, I could do **this—**"

With all the power and strength she could muster, she found a way to throw herself onto him and used her both hands to tighten around Crabbe's throat, her nails digging into his flesh.

He was furious.

Still having her hair in his fist, and being big enough to not fall back after Hermione's attack, pulled her head away from him, jerking it around.

For fear of the intactness of her neck, Hermione let go of Crabbe and instead concentrated on releasing his hold of her hair. She barely registered the blood slowly trickling down his neck before she felt her head smash against marble.

Somehow he was able to hit her head against the floor.

Now being the complete underdog, Crabbe let go of Hermione's head and instead wrapped both his hands tightly around her neck.

Hermione felt her head pounding as his grip strengthened.

"_Impedimenta!"_

Crabbe's struggling form fell to her side, ropes wrapped all around him.

"What the fuck are you doing here—"

Hermione heard the mysterious footsteps stop somewhere near her head.

"_Petrificus Totalus!"_

Crabbe was as stiff as a board.

* * *

Parvati Patil was breathless.

She ran to the Head's Common room, where she asked the damned portrait if she could enter. After being denied the entry…because she did not acquire the password…she tried to explain that she **had **to talk to Harry Potter. That it was an _emergency_.

"I'm sorry dear, but rules are that I don't let you in unless you have a password."

"I—I don't have a password, but I assure you that it is of **great** importance that I speak with Harry Potter."

"Misses, Mr. Potter isn't even here. He stepped out a few minutes ago with his redheaded friend."

"Do you know where he'd gone off to?"

"My guess is the Gryffindor Common room—."

"Thank you."

And so it is how Parvati ran from her encounter with Crabbe to the Head's common room and now to Gryffindor's common room.

"_Password?"_

"—Uh—Butterbeer lemon drops."

The fat lady swung open, and Parvati was glad to see that just one person was in the common room. Now no one would be gaping at her blood.

"Ron, where's Harry?"

"Parvati, what the _hell_ happened to you!"

"Never mind that, where's Harry?"

"He's in the dorm, what's going on?"

"Nothing, don't follow," she said, and quickly made for the stairs leading to the boys dormitory.

There were many dorms, and Parvati felt the quick feeling of despair realizing that she didn't have time to look for him in each one.

The hall didn't have much design to it. It had a dark wooden floor and matching walls. Even the doors were of the same dark, pale old wooden texture.

At this time the hall lights were off, making it look like an old, almost haunted passage in an abandoned mansion.

Luckily enough, before Parvati was forced to yell out Harry's name and thus bring upon herself the attention she was glad she didn't encounter in the beginning, Harry stepped out of his dormitory, closing the door behind him.

Parvati ran to him just as Harry turn away from the door.

"Parvati what're you doing here?" he asked surprised.

"Harry," she began, but suddenly realized that she could hardly breathe, and therefore how could she explain anything?

It seemed that he had just noticed the blood, but being more together than Ron, didn't scream about it.

"Is…everything all alright?" he asked, looking oddly at the reddish brown on her upper lip and on the white collar of her robes.

Parvati, breathing hard and on the verge of tears, looked at Harry as if by doing so, he'd understand everything.

A third year stepped out of his dormitory, and looked curiously at the pair…trying and failing to be discrete.

Harry looked around for a bit, and finally opened the door back into his dorm.

"Come on in, no one'll hear us in here."

She didn't protest, and ran hurriedly inside the dorm, Harry following her and closing the door behind him.

Parvati turned around, not sure how it was she was going to tell him this. The last thing she wanted now was to upset Harry Potter, the best friend of the girl who's going through hell because of her.

"What's going on?" asked Harry, quickly skimming her whole appearance.

"Oh Harry…it's Hermione!" whispered Parvati; a phrase that made Harry snatch his stare from a blood stain on her robes to her face, an alert expression on his handsome features.

"What about Hermione?" he asked in a low, quiet voice. "What's happened?"

Parvati opened her mouth to speak, but instead her face screwed up into a pained look, and tears finally cascaded down her cheeks.

"What the—Parvati are you alright? Is everything okay?" said Harry, looking around to see if there was a tissue box anywhere in the room. Spotting a small box by Neville's bed, he went to retrieve some for the broken down Parvati.

"I don't know, Harry, that's the problem!" she whispered, wiping her tears off with a tissue she had accepted from Harry and trying to look at him straight in the eye.

"Well…is Hermione in trouble? In danger? Did she fail a test and try to kill herself?"

"No, no, no," wailed Parvati, turning around to sit on the bed behind her. "She…she saved me."

"Oh…I'm...sorry?" tried Harry.

"No Harry, you don't understand," said Parvati, her hands turning into fists, wrinkling the moist tissue Harry had given her.

He fetched her another one. "Well how's about you start from the beginning?" suggested Harry, pulling up a chair and sitting down in front of her.

"Harry we haven't got time to talk. For all we know, Hermione's…"

Harry looked at Parvati expectantly, but she didn't finish the sentence. His worry for Hermione had escalated a great deal. If it had motivated Parvati Patil to walk all the way here to talk to him about it…with blood on her robes…then it was serious.

And just like that Parvati had rushed into her story, significantly skipping the part where he had raped her and leaving it to the fact that he's a Slytherin as the reason why Crabbe was acting the way he was.

She had expected the Great Harry Potter to jump up from his chair and run to find his best friend and save her from an awful fate. But to her huge surprise, Harry seemed to have relaxed.

He looked at her wearily, leaning back on his chair as he once again took in her tattered appearance.

Sighing and then sitting up, he smiled at her softly. "Come on," he motioned, extending his hand out to her. "Let's get you cleaned up. I doubt you want to go to the hospital wing."

"B-but," stuttered Parvati. She really didn't understand. "Don't you want go and help Hermione? She could be in serious peril."

Harry chuckled. "Parvati…it's Crabbe. I'm sure Hermione's handling him just fine. It's nothing serious, honest. Hermione's very bright, she'll have Crabbe hexed in no time."

_Maybe I should tell him he had her pinned against the wall with his hand on her throat. That he didn't just hurt me…maybe I should tell him about the rape…_

"Come on, I'm sure Ron's downstairs worried sick with curiosity on why a Patil's full of blood."

"But—"

"Parvati, my arm's getting tired."

God he was handsome tonight.

She took his hand with her cleanest, most dry-blood free hand. With that he pulled her up and into a hug, something Parvati would have loved if what happened about a month ago hadn't happened. Now, she took it as a sign of what it was…comfort.

"Nothing's going to happen to Hermione, she's smart and lucky like that. Plus it's Crabbe. And don't you worry, Parvati…he'll pay for hitting you, that coward. He'll pay."

Parvati's eyes widened in fear as she remembered Crabbe's warning: To tell no one…unless she wanted it to happen again.

"That's alright, Harry. You seriously don't need to do anything. Let's just leave it like that…"

Harry looked down at her head in surprise. He had a small flashback on the morning after Malfoy had dumped her. It was hard to imagine that the Parvati that had spilled porridge all over the Slytherin King and pulled out quite the number of hairs from his scalp was willing to take a beating from a Slytherin no one.

_Since when does a Patil just **take** things?_

"Are you sure? It's no problem, really. **I'd** be more than happy and I'm sure Dean and Seamus would love to—"

"No," said Parvati a little to loudly, letting Harry hear loud and clear the fear in her voice.

Harry rested his chin on her head and rubbed her back. Something here wasn't right. But he wasn't about to ask right now; it was clearly not the right time.

"Okay. Let's get all the blood off you then."

* * *

Hermione felt herself be heaved by her underarms and held till she was able to firmly place her own two feet on the floor. Her breathing was hard and slow, evened out by her fast-beating heart.

The first thing she did after that was turn around. She might have been in a tight situation just a couple of moments ago, but she was still a curious witch, and no matter what the circumstances, that would never change.

"Are you alright, Hermione?"

Did he not see what had just happened to her? What kind of stupid question was that? And he's supposed to be smart?

"Yes…yes I'm fine. What're you doing here?"

"I'm a prefect, remember? I was doing hallway checks when I heard the huge ruckus the falling knights created. I came to see what was all the commotion and, good God the sight I walked in on!"

His jet black eyes scanned her over quickly. "You sure you're all right? Do you want to report this to the headmaster? Surely there's a severe punishment for this crime. Only a coward would harm a woman physically—"

"Uh…thanks Terry, but I'd rather keep this…_event_…um…secret."

Terry looked at her quizzically behind his doctor-like glasses. "Surely you don't plan on just _taking_ this."

Hermione ran a hand through her hair, looking as if she herself couldn't believe it either.

"I don't know Terry," she said, looking about frantically.

"I thought you were the type to—"

"I know, I know. And I am. But, right now…I'm just shook up. And there's much more to this than I know right now," she continued. "I just want to make sure I'm not making things worse by involving a professor…"

Hermione turned to look down at Crabbe as Terry summoned her wand. An instant feeling of loathing and fear overcame her stomach.

"What to do with him?" he asked, giving her her wand.

Hermione looked at Crabbe as if he were a mount of dung.

"We could hide him in the closet," said Terry. "Or make him grow boils…"

_Amateur_, thought Hermione.

"Snap his wand in half—"

"Hermione that's against the rules!"

"And what he did to me isn't!" she asked him angrily.

Terry seemed to reconsider, and sighed wearily. "Isn't there a harsher punishment that won't get us in trouble?"

"No," said Hermione curtly. "Let's snap his wand and…break his nose while we're at it."

Terry looked at her almost ruefully. "Hermione Granger I never thought…"

Seeing that Terry was not planning on breaking anything, Hermione gave in impatient sigh and roughly pulled the wand from Crabbe's paralyzed hand.

She snapped the wand over her knee and then kicked his face, finishing off with throwing the two pieces of wand on top of him.

"Bastard," she muttered, observing how rapidly the blood flow of his nose became.

"Are you alright?" asked Terry, looking back and forth between her and the Slytherin.

"I'm…I'm fine…" said Hermione, before the wholesome of the events rushed into her understanding, causing a great darkness to overcome her consciousness.

* * *

Draco lay in his bed and stared at the canopy above him. He could pretend it was the ceiling…for all that he **could** see in the dark.

But whether he saw a sheet above him or a roof it didn't matter, because he wasn't paying the slightest attention to whatever it was.

Whether he liked it or not, he couldn't get off of his bloody mind that _little mudblood Granger._

For the past weeks, all she's done is act as if nothing had _ever_ happened. She…she **really** didn't want to speak to him again.

Draco Malfoy couldn't remember a time where a girl had made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him…and meant it. Surely playing hard to get was out of the question.

She wasn't playing hard to get, she was playing hard to talk to.

Almost as if they were only enemies.

But weren't they just that? Weren't they a legendary example of the house rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin? It had been like that for so many years, why all of the sudden this change?

Why did this affect him so much?

It almost hurt him that she acted as if they had never had a heart to heart. Even though there weren't really much words exchanged in the first one…and plenty of bad ones in the second one…it was still the closest feeling he's ever experienced with anyone other than his mother.

He had tried everything. He had **followed** her. Something he doesn't do too often.

And he had kissed her that day…but she didn't really respond. She just…kept shoving him away. And he knew why.

He had messed up.

That night when Pansy-and-company had pulled that little prank on her, he went to help and turned out to make things worse. He remembered everything so clearly…

They had been kissing (Draco's hand unconsciously reached for his lips)…

And she had started kissing his neck, and then back to his lips…and then she stopped it…

"_Why are you doing this?" she whispered, and his response was to detangle himself and take a small step back._

"_Why are **you** doing this Granger?"_

"_Malfoy, I don't want to be some adventure to add to your list."_

"_You've mentioned that so many times, Hermione," he said, slightly impatient._

"_Then why are you kissing me?" she whispered, her voice slowly rising with every statement. "Why did you follow me all the way here? Why did you tell your girls to stop back at the tower? Why…" she breathed. "Why does it almost seem like you care?"_

And it was then where he messed up. Instead of making her feel better, he did the equivalent of slapping her in the face.

"_Oh please Granger. **Care**? The only person allowed to insult you to tears is **me**. **I'm** the only one who should make you feel so low, not Parkinson-and-company!"_

Why he had even bothered to chase her and try to help her was still a mystery he'd rather not solve.

He couldn't help but remember how her eyes looked at him so loathingly right before she had stormed off.

He should have done something then. Chased her some more, grab her arm and refuse to let go. Maybe she would have forgiven him if he had showed that he cared.

'_Did you forget that you have to say **sorry** in order for someone to forgive you!'_ said a voice within his head.

He, Draco Malfoy, couldn't help but wonder…fantasize sometimes what would have happened if he had just said sorry.

He sat up angrily.

"What the hell is going on?" he whispered to himself.

Why did he care whether Hermione Granger talked to him or not? Why did it affect him so? Why couldn't he go along with life like he always did?

Not that he wasn't sleeping with girls…come on…he was Draco Malfoy. Nonetheless, he kept thinking about Granger a hell of lot more than he ever thought he would.

He sighed and buried his head in his hands. He had to get it together. If he didn't…God knows what might happen.

Draco heard someone stumble into the dormitory, and swear mercilessly as he banged some part of his body on what sounded like a trunk.

He raised his head from his hands and narrowed his eyes at the darkness. Who the hell was that and what the hell had happened?

Draco slowly reached just past his curtains, his fair hands slicking through a slit as he reached over his nightstand for his wand.

The person, still swearing, started to walk towards the bathroom. He turned on the lights.

Draco pulled back his curtains slightly, just enough for him to peek through. It was Crabbe.

He rolled his eyes and pushed his curtains far apart.

"Where the hell were you?" he asked a bit impatient. "Do you know what time it is!"

Crabbe, who seemed to be washing his face in the sink, didn't turn around. "No. But I don't see anyone else here either."

Draco looked around. He was right.

"Do you know where they are?"

"Blaise's still in the common room and Gregory's trying to get laid."

Draco chuckled. Some people could be **so **sad.

"And you?" he asked, getting off his bed. "Where were you?"

He placed his wand back on his nightstand and started walking towards the bathroom.

Crabbe emerged before Draco reached the bathroom, giving him a dim view of his bloody shirt.

"What the…?"

Crabbe turned the lights on and then turned to meet Draco's inquisitorial stare.

"Where do you **think** I was?" he asked.

All that inhabited that dorm knew that Crabbe was desperate enough to rape those that attracted him.

Draco's eyes shot up, "I thought you didn't do virgins."

Crabbe rolled his eyes and walked past Draco towards the bathroom again.

"It was stupid Granger. Bitch got back at me by breaking my wand," he said, disposing the two pieces into a bin. "If you ever have a plan to murder her, count me in. You don't even have to ask—"

_It was stupid Granger…bitch got back at me…_

Draco felt his insides churn. Such anger rushed into him he felt slightly lightheaded.

He turned around, his eyes ablaze.

"You…_Hermione_?"

Crabbe turned around, his eyebrows furrowed. "Hermione? Since when are you and Granger on first-name terms?"

Draco didn't listen. His head was spinning…Hermione…one of the few innocent girls left…was raped…by…the asshole in front of him.

He didn't even question why he cared. Once again, Draco Malfoy acted on impulse.

He ran up to Crabbe, dodging open trunks, and grabbed him by the front of his shirt.

"**What the _fuck_ did you do to her!**" he roared.

"Draco, what the hell is wrong with you!" asked Crabbe in a somewhat intimidated voice.

Draco shook him before pushing him as hard as he could against the wall. His face close to his, he clenched his jaw.

"**Tell me…_now_**."

Crabbe looked at him incredulously. "What does it matter what I did to Granger?"

That was it. It was almost a confirmation to Draco that he had raped her.

Draco stepped back and looked at him with disgust before sending a powerful blow to Crabbe's left cheek, turning his head a complete 90-degree angle.

Draco threw blow after blow, and eventually Crabbe caught on to the fact that his fellow Slytherin _was_ beating him up.

Crabbe threw his first punch, and Draco was reminded why it was that he had chosen him as one of his bodyguards in his younger years.

"What's this, _Malfoy_," said Crabbe. "Fighting a fellow housemate!"

Draco, who had fallen backwards onto Blaise's bed, launched himself back into battle. He took a strong hold of Crabbe's neck with his left hand, and pounded his face with his powerful right.

He felt someone pull him out of his fury, holding his arms behind him.

Crabbe took the opportunity to give Draco a body punch so violent that it caused him to double over and spit out blood, coughing and gasping for breath like mad.

Someone took hold of Crabbe as well, who looked down at Draco as if he couldn't believe what had just happened.

"What the fuck is going on here!"

It was Blaise, who was obviously holding Draco's arms captive as he got up to launch his revenge for the body punch.

"Oi!" yelled Blaise, struggling to keep a hold of Draco.

"Let me go! I've got a right mind to kill this bastard!"

"We aren't supposed to fight with each other, Draco! _Slytherins stay together_, remember!"

Draco muttered swear words under his breath in response.

"What the **hell** happened!" demanded Blaise, looking at Crabbe.

"I'm not really sure. He just kept on asking me what I had done to Granger—"

Blaise looked at the blood on Crabbe's shirt. "Is that from just now or from before?"

"Both," answered Crabbe, looking aggravated.

A look of comprehension dawned on Blaise's features. He looked at Draco, and from what he could see (being behind him), he was staring at the wall with all the anger he could muster.

"If Greg and I let go of you two, will you launch at each other or will you two relax?"

They didn't answer, and Blaise nodded at Goyle to let go of Crabbe.

As soon as Blaise let go of Draco, he jumped at Crabbe and started punching him in the stomach.

Crabbe responded with blows and wrongly aimed kicks.

"**What the fuck is wrong with you two!**" yelled Blaise, once again trying to separate them with Goyle's help.

Blaise once again took hold of Draco, who jumped and struggled to get free…Crabbe doing the same on the other end.

"He's mad!" yelled Crabbe. "Someone's got to knock some sense into him!"

"Don't **fuck** with me, Crabbe! If they weren't here you'd be **dead**!"

"I wasn't the one who started it!"

"What business have you raping Granger!"

"Who the fuck said I _did_? And why the fuck would **you** care!"

"I don't have to give you **any** explanations whatsoever!"

"To begin with, I'd never rape Granger! She's a mudblood!"

Draco sneered. "That's never stopped you before."

"And you never had a problem with whatever I did. It was my business!"

Draco snatched his arms out of Blaise's grip, and since he stayed put, Blaise didn't bother to keep hold of him.

"Not when it comes to Granger, you hear? **All of you**," he said. "Granger's **mine**. No one but I can touch her. Is that understood!"

"Yes Draco," answered Goyle, and Crabbe soon followed with a reluctant nod, also becoming free of Goyle's grip.

He turned to Blaise, waiting for his word on not touching Granger.

He looked at Draco intently with a stare that told him _I hope this isn't what I think it is_.

Draco raised an eyebrow, and Blaise raised both his hands in the air. "You've got no reason to worry about me. You know how I feel about…_Gryffindors_," he said significantly.

Draco's fierce stare faltered, before returning with a clenched jaw to Crabbe.

"She's still a virgin?"

"Yes. The bitch broke my nose and scratched the hell out of my neck."

Draco wanted to ask what it was that he **had** done to her, but he figured that he had already acted out of character to ask any further questions.

_Shit, I've got to fix this_.

He turned to Blaise.

"Zabini here and I have a bit of a challenge between us. No need for the details, but I need to have as many hands off Granger as possible, good?"

"Sure. Whatever you say, Draco," said Goyle.

Blaise, who was honestly speechless, let out a breath of sardonic laughter, gave Draco a disgusted look, and walked out of the dorm.

He would have followed, but as he wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth, he figured he'd better get cleaned up first.

Then he'd follow Blaise.

* * *

Harry felt a twinge of guilt when he heard Parvati hiss in pain as he tried to wipe the blood off with a wet cloth.

He doubted he was any good at this. But, as he rinsed the cloth in one of Moaning Murtle's sinks, it was the least he could do.

He knew, and Parvati had the hunch, that if Hermione had been the one to run to him with blood all over her robes, he would have hunted Crabbe and hung his head on a wall. It was just the way he was.

And it was the duty he felt to Hermione.

So, he figured, the least he could do was help her get all the blood off her face.

"I still think you should go to Madame Pomfrey for this. I'm not exactly the best healer, you know."

"It's fine Harry, seriously."

"I don't think this is going to work at all. You're bruises have already begun to show and I doubt you want to be walking around school like this tomorrow."

"I'll figure something out. Getting rid of bruises can't be that difficult."

"You'd be surprised," said Harry, who began dabbing her face again.

She was sitting on the sink next to the one Harry had just used, holding on carefully so that she didn't fall in.

"I'll bet I'll find someone who'll do it for me. Perhaps Hermione Granger—"

The door to the bathroom opened, and Ron's flaming hair appeared shortly.

"Hi there, Ron. You've got the food?"

"Harry…"

He seemed out of breath and seriously flushed.

"What the hell happened to _you_?" asked Harry, giving Ron a better look.

Parvati took a different approach.

"Ron are you alright?"

"I just…was…and…"

"Ron you aren't making any sense," said Harry, dropping the cloth into a sink. "What happened?"

"I saw… … …"

Ron looked pretty alarming. Almost as if he needed to say something so urgent…and the more he tried, the more desperate he got, and the less he was able to put a sentence together.

"Ron get yourself together!" said Parvati.

"It's……it's…"

"**Ron!**" roared Harry.

"Terry's holding an unconscious Hermione three floors down!"

"What!" said Harry. "Where are they?"

"I found them on my way to the kitchens. They were only a few corridors away," breathed Ron.

"Is he taking her to the Hospital Wing?" asked Harry hurriedly. Lord knew he wanted to just run, but it would be more efficient if he knew if Boot was going to stay put or go somewhere.

"That's what I told him to do while I got you, but he said he couldn't take her there."

'_Good…wait, what!'_

"What do you **mean** he can't take her there! Where **else** is she supposed to go!"

Ron, whose breathing had returned to normal, looked incredulous at Harry.

"That's what _I_ said!" said Ron, his cheeks turning red. "But he said she didn't want any professors involved."

Parvati grabbed Harry's arm, an even greater pit forming in her stomach. "Crabbe," she said.

Harry's eyes widened. He didn't want to believe it…but could it be…?

"What the hell are you talking about?" asked Ron. This was obviously a waste of precious time. "Crabbe was no where near there, and for all we know, Hermione could be in serious trouble and we're here discussing theories!"

Harry seemed to snap out of his daze and looked at Ron almost ashamed, but alarmed.

"Which way's the quickest way to get there?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Follow me."

* * *

Hermione's eyes fluttered to the dim light that belonged to a room she had yet to recognize.

She opened her eyes slightly, and figured she really didn't want to wake up yet, so she closed her eyes again. But something wasn't right.

_Where the hell was she?_

She wasn't in her dormitory. She wasn't in the common room, because it usually had more lighting.

And what business did she have being in the Gryffindor Common room at this time?

What time _was_ it?

She tried opening her eyes again, but the light made that impossible.

_What the hell had happened to her_?

* * *

Ron stopped short, causing Harry to crash right into him, and allowing Parvati to catch up.

"What's going on?" she asked. "Why'd you two stop?"

Ron looked around the hallway. "Harry, we've got a bit of a problem here, mate."

"And that would be?" asked Harry. This was really no time for games.

"I could have sworn this was where they had been. And now no one's here."

"Great," said Harry angrily. "You make me and Parvati follow you for three floors and you didn't even know where you were going! Are we even near the kitchens?" asked Harry, passing Ron and looking around frantically.

"Of **course** we are," said Ron angrily.

Harry turned to Ron. "Why is it not surprising that you are so certain where food is located but not where your best friend is?"

"She stopped being my best friend long time ago! You're lucky enough I even cared to call you!"

"Is that how you operate! Couple of arguments and your done with someone who's done so much for you!"

"Oh give me a **break** Harry. You more than anyone knows that they weren't just a _couple_ of arguments!"

"Don't you start acting like most of them weren't your fault."

"I thought you were **neutral** in this whole thing!"

"**Where's Hermione!** I can't be neutral if there aren't _two_ sides to agree with."

"I'm not even going to pretend like that made sense."

"Nothing makes sense to you, Ron."

"Are you calling me stupid?"

"Guys!" yelled Parvati, getting between them.

"What're you going to do about it?" challenged Harry.

"You wanna see?"

"Not sure I'm in the mood for a pitiful display of a man, but go ahead."

"Oh **no** you did not—"

Harry laughed quickly and insanely, "**_Yea_** I did!"

Ron nearly launched at him were it not for Parvati pushing him back.

"Hermione isn't going to appear with you two arguing like ten year olds! Settle your differences later!"

"There _aren't_ any differences between us, that is, if you disregard the fact that I know what it is to be a friend!" yelled Harry, so close to Parvati it seemed as if she were holding him back too.

"And I don't! Are you seriously forgetting all the shit you put me and Hermione through!"

"**Both of you, shut up!**" yelled Parvati, loud enough for the guys to instantly cease their bickering and look at her, startled.

"Now Hermione was unconscious, correct?" said Parvati into a very quiet hallway. "And now she's missing."

"Along with Boot," said Ron. "Maybe he took her to the hospital wing after all."

He made no eye contact with Harry whatsoever.

"Or maybe he didn't," said Harry, looking like his anger had once again resumed a dangerous level.

Ron looked at Harry as if he were a four year old who had asked the same question for the millionth time.

"You don't think that Boot took her to his dormitory or anything, do you? He was carrying _Hermione_, Harry. Not _Lavender_."

"You're the most pathetic excuse of a friend I've ever had the misfortune to encounter."

**Ouch**.

Parvati took a deep breath, slowly counting to three before continuing. "So, where could she possibly be?"

"—Hospital Wing—"

"—Ravenclaw—"

"_**Harry**…_"

"Whatever," he murmured, turning around. "Let's split up then. I'll go to the Ravenclaw Common room—"

"She's **not** going to be there," pitched Ron.

"Parvati, you go to the Hospital Wing and Ron go wait for her in the common room."

"Oh like she's going to be **there**."

"We'll meet up in the Head's Common room, agreed?"

"Do we have another choice?"

"**Agreed**," said Parvati meaningfully, and turned sharply to go to the hospital wing.

Awkwardness rested between the two young men, before they simultaneously turned opposite directions and walked away.

* * *

She felt a wet cloth being dabbed on her forehead, wet beads dripping into her hair.

She shifted and tried to open her eyes again.

_Damn light_.

And, almost as if she had voiced her aggravation, the lights turned off.

She reached for the newly abandoned cloth on her head and removed it, sitting up and looking around.

She recognized them at once…the two gray orbs that shone through any darkness that dared to encounter them.

They looked at each other, each very far apart.

Time seemed to have frozen, and was quickly put to start again when he turned around and walked to the door.

She thought he was going to leave when he opened the door, but instead he only peeked down the hall, snuck his head back in, and closed it shut.

He turned around, and instead of locking eyes again, walked briefly past where she sat to a slightly larger and more sophisticated desk.

He fumbled with a couple of things Hermione couldn't really make out before he toppled over a thin flask, and though he hurriedly tried to catch it, shattered to pieces along the surface of the desk.

He clenched a frustrated fist, angry that he was showing so little self-control. Resting against the desk, his back to Hermione, he breathed deeply. He had to get it together.

"What am I doing here?" asked Hermione curtly.

He didn't answer. He didn't even turn around.

He began to fumble with objects again, and out of nowhere, stopped and turned around to look at her.

His eyes were slightly apprehensive, something that caught Hermione very much off guard. It almost seemed as if he were…uncomfortable?

"How're you feeling, Granger?"

"Confused," she answered quickly. "What am I doing here?"

That, for some unknown reasons to Hermione, seemed to have brought back the old, emotionless Malfoy. His eyes were back to steal.

"If I were you Granger, I'd be a bit nicer to me for the following two reasons. One: I was considerate enough to help you regain consciousness. Two: you're alone with me…**again**."

Hermione's eyes furrowed. "Am I supposed to be thankful?"

"I would think that appropriate, yes."

"Then that's something else to add on the long list of differences between us, isn't it?"

"It's already there. _Mannered _and _untamed_."

"Are you calling me an animal?" she tested.

"I'm calling _myself _mannered."

Even through the dark, Draco could tell Hermione was bubbling with anger. Her jaw was clenched and her nose flared.

She slid off, placing the wet cloth on the desk, and looked him dead in the eye. "Why am I here? The last person I want to be with right now is a Slytherin."

"Funny I thought it'd be Crabbe."

"All Slytherins are the same."

"And they would be…?"

"Heartless bastards."

Silence.

"Do you even know what happened?"

Hermione finally looked away from him to the floor. "I remember breaking his nose and his wand. And I was with…"

She looked around, and then back to Draco. "Where's Terry?"

"Boot?" asked Draco.

"_Yes_, that would be Terry."

Draco huffed. "That kid ran at the sight of me."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you did something to him first—"

Draco smirked. "You act as if bravery is a part of every house."

"It's a part of Terry."

"I don't see him anywhere near here," said Draco pointedly.

Hermione stood taller, and tried to look to the door as discretely as possible. "I'm pretty sure he's looking for me."

"If it were me, I would have long found you."

"Like you'd bother."

"Even if I wouldn't, it's been long enough for me to _casually_ come across you. Unless, of course, I don't want to—for which I'd stay in my common room."

"He wouldn't," she said in a matter of factly.

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really. You must've done something to him," she said, and as her words settled in, so did an expression of fear. "You must've…disabled him…or something..._good God—_"

"I didn't hurt him," he answered annoyed. "I just scared him a little."

Hermione scowled. "And that would be what? Torturing him with an Unforgivable Curse, correct?"

He snarled. "Close. Stunning him with a temporary paralyzing spell and leaving him in a closet's more like it."

"_You **what**?_!" whispered Hermione.

"It's better than using an Unforgivable Curse isn't it?" he asked logically.

"That doesn't justify anything," snapped Hermione. "You…you…you **stunned **him to rob me and…bring me **here**. Just what do you plan to do with me?"

Draco was about to answer, but Hermione figured it was better if she didn't wait, and turned to run past her desk, and made for the door.

Draco started after her, and having effectively longer legs, caught up in no time.

Therefore, when she started to pull the door open, he quickly pushed it shut with one hand. Hermione attempted to open the door twice more, each time the door not opening for more than a centimeter before it was crudely shut again.

She spun around, a scared but determined look on her features as her face and Draco's were but inches apart. "Let me go or I'll scream."

"No," he said sharply, his eyes boring into hers.

She met his stare.

"I'm serious. I'll scream the whole entire school awake, and I couldn't care less whether or not you get expelled. As a matter of fact," she said venomously. "It would be a bonus."

He felt a pang.

It was a quick nasty feeling that formed little ripples as the after-effect.

His eyes stopped boring into hers, and Hermione could've sworn she'd seen a flash of hurt.

He removed his hand away from the door, and when he looked at her again, his eyes were the confused mixture of anger, hurt and hate.

"Go," he said simply. "That's what you've asked for, isn't it!" he asked angrily, his hand fiercely pointing at the door behind her. "Go. You've gotten what you've asked for."

He stared at her, a disgusted look on his features.

But Hermione did not move. That wasn't supposed to happen. Draco Malfoy was supposed to refuse to let her have it her way. She was supposed to run and he was supposed to chase.

Her leaving now would probably take out the excitement of her whole week. What was going on?

They always played this game.

"What's wrong, Granger? Shocked that I'm waving the white flag?"

He looked so mad. Hurt.

_Hermione **leave**! What on Earth are you still doing here? Leave, you don't want anything to do with this Slytherin._

_Right?_

"Is everything alright with you, Malfoy?"

"Who gets you, Granger! Didn't you want to leave? Wasn't that what you wanted! Well I'm letting you go, so leave!"

He gave her one last look before he turned away from her to lean forward on a desk.

"Why'd you bring me here in the first place?" she asked softly but sternly.

"I suggest you leave."

"I want to know why," she demanded.

"Leave before I show you."

"**Tell me**."

He spun around, "don't pretend like you don't want this," was all he said while he took three long strides towards her, grabbed her face, and kissed her.

Passionately soft.

Her head in his hands, Hermione attempted to pull away twice, before she gave into him completely.

His hands moved to her back, as her hands clasped gently at the sides of his neck. Their tongues brushed fiercely against each other as their breathing became incredibly strained.

Draco was first to pull away, Hermione already missing the feeling of his lips on hers.

But that feeling wouldn't last long before he dove back in, this time pushing her against the door behind her.

His hands went to her face again as Hermione's slipped down to front of his robes, clutching them to pull him closer.

He smiled into the kiss, liking the new aggressiveness that for once worked in his favor.

He was experiencing something he had never experience before, and he wasn't too sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

But he didn't really care.

_Because this moment…this moment's too great_.

He bit her bottom lip gently, she his top; and then they entered another fierce battle.

Lord knows what it was that made them kiss so eagerly…

Almost as if they missed each other… _needed_ each other.

'_Malfoy's still the great kisser.'_

Although Hermione had somewhat forced herself to forget him and concentrate on his rude remarks during the day, she couldn't deny at this very moment that she had missed his kisses all along.

That she really did want to be with him. That it really **did** bother her every time she heard about his latest lay…swearing to herself that she was been so thankful to not be added to his list.

And she was.

She was glad that she hadn't been one of those stupid girls that followed his sweet-talk to bed. It had to have been a new girl she'd hear about every week or two. It was always someone different.

And then it hit her.

And she shoved him off.

"What—"

"What the hell is wrong with you Malfoy!"

"_Excuse me_?"

"Kissing me like everything's alright."

"It wasn't like you weren't kissing me back, Hermione."

"That's beyond the point!" she yelled. She put a frantic hand on her forehead and looked about, thinking.

For some reason, Draco began to worry. He had been so convinced things were back to how they used to be…when they…were together…?

"I have to go," she said, more to herself than to anyone else. She nodded as if seconding her own suggestion. "Yes, I must leave."

She turned to go, but Draco once again stopped her. This time he pushed the door shut with much frustrated anger.

"**Malfoy let me go**."

He didn't respond, and instead grabbed her elbow and roughly pulled her away from the door so that he stood in the way.

Hermione looked up at him, an incredulous look in her eyes. "You…you _dared_—"

"Shut up," he said impatiently. He was furious. "You had your chance to go—didn't take it? Not my problem."

"Malfoy move out of my way or…or…"

"OR WHAT, GRANGER!"

Whoa. That was out of nowhere.

"D-don't yell at me!"

His face contorted with pure fury. "I do whatever the **bloody hell** I feel like doing!"

"Not with me, you don't! Now move out of my way, or I won't respond!"

He scowled. "Is that supposed to be a threat? _You won't respond_? I've had worse thrown my way."

"I'm serious Malfoy! I want to go, and I want to go now. And after this I don't want anything to do with you…**ever again**. What happened never happened, and what's going to happen is absolutely nothing, understood!"

Hermione didn't even let him respond before she continued, trying to keep her composure and failing completely.

"You **don't** expect me to just…_be_ with you like this after what happened," she almost whispered.

She lost her nerve at the next statement.

"After you practically _spit_ in my face when I asked you for help!" She croaked. "After you _kicked_ me when I was down and begging for comfort! **No** Malfoy, no. It took me _**a lot** _to open myself up to _you_ of all people, and you just…"

His scowl was gone. Any trace of anger left his face, and the amount of guilt he felt was so great that he wasn't even able to look at her.

"…didn't care," she finished sternly. "You expect me to forget that, Malfoy? Do you?"

She didn't let him answer, and instead walked up to him, and made for the door.

He moved out of the way, his eyes incredibly unfocused.

She opened the door and walked out into the dark hall, closing the door as quietly as possible.

Hermione Granger didn't make it halfway down the corridor before he, too, came out of the classroom and rushed after her.

"Hermione wait," he whispered loudly.

She didn't listen. She was concentrating on not dissolving into tears, and her hard work really was paying off. Instead of becoming pathetically emotional, she was becoming more aggravated and enraged by the second.

He caught up and took hold of her arm, which just led to her spinning around and slapping his left cheek with an echoing smack.

He let go of her immediately and clutched his cheek. They stared at each other for a couple of more seconds before Hermione slapped his other cheek.

He removed his hand from his cheek and looked at her with a mixture of indignation and…_shame_?

But she wasn't done. Her fury was turning into fiery passion as she took another go at the first cheek she slapped.

And then she lost it.

She tried shoving him backwards but he only took one step back, so she pushed him some more.

And then she started throwing lame punches to his chest, slapping him again once she realized that she wasn't hurting him enough.

Her fists were consecutive, and she was allowed two more slaps before Draco snapped and grabbed her flailing hands. "Granger **stop**."

She struggled against his grip but no avail.

"—Calm—down—"

"I hate you," she whispered fiercely.

He said nothing, still wrestling with her form.

She pulled back with all of her might, not caring that if she were to get it her way, she'd fall back. "I hate you," she said in a low voice again. "Let me go, don't touch me."

"Stop it, Granger."

"Get—**off**!"

"_Granger_!"

She was able to get one hand free, for which she used to slap his arm as hard as she could…and one more go at the face.

Draco's head turned a full 90 degrees at the slap, and it was at this point where he lost it.

He had been humiliated enough.

Taking a painfully strong grip on her upper arm he roughly pulled her into the nearest classroom, slamming the door behind him.

He paused for a moment, listening to see if anyone had heard them. When satisfied, he turned to a frantic Hermione.

She ran for the door, but Draco being right in front, didn't let her escape. He simply extended one arm to catch her in her run and pushed her back to where she had started.

His eyes were ablaze.

"Now you **shut up** and listen to me, Granger—"

"Give me one good reason why I should."

"**Because I'm trying to fucking apologize here!**" he roared, running a mad hand through his hair. "Can't you see it's been driving me crazy this past month having you ignore me! Trying to get your attention and you simply look the other way! I just finished fighting _Vincent Crabbe_ because of you, and I really don't know _why_! Blaise's looking at me like I'm the disappointment of the century and—okay so maybe I should've had a better approach than stealing you from Boot, but I didn't exactly feel like approaching you in the great hall right in front of everyone!"

He looked at Hermione with the most confused expression she's ever seen on him.

"I don't know what's going on with me right now, but there's something about you that makes me…want to be different and commit the murder of every Gryffindor at the same time." He paused, at which he took a deep breath and another step closer.

"I understand you're mad. And I know you didn't exactly _ask_ for anything that has to do with me…but…" and after three more seconds of thought, he finally got out what he had been wanting to get out all along. "I'm sorry."

* * *

**A.N: Aren't I the absolute worst!**

I know you're all about ready to come and lynch me for taking so long. But you see…there's an explanation.

Just as I had finally fixed my computer…it got another virus, for which I had to wait till it got fixed (it's still not fixed.) BUT I kept on writing and perfecting and writing and perfecting and so on till I've got 59 pgs!

I **would** have written more…till at least 60…but you people seemed pretty anxious. Plus…don't you all just LOVE cliffhangers?

It's not even a serious cliff, this one. More like a hill…

Anyhow, the reason why I updated was really because of the reviews. Because they were so great and I LOVE YOU ALL REVIEWERS!

I LOVE YOU ALL!

Bye-bye! Till next time.

Feelings are finally coming out, huh?

LOVE YA!


	19. The Kiss and The Date

**Chapter Nineteen:**

Hermione stepped into the darkness of the Head's Common Room as quietly as possible. Too much happened and all she wanted was a good night's sleep.

Tired, she made her way for her set of stairs, not exactly willing to reach for her wand and turn on by-standing candles. All she wished for at the moment was to plop down on her bed and sleep. Sleep and never wake up. Just knock out dead in peaceful slumber.

She almost tripped on her way up, and when she finally reached her wing, nearly lost balance because she thought there were _more_ steps to go, and the unexpected levelness of the floor threw her off.

Inside her dormitory, however, she did bother with lighting candles, and even willed herself to change into sleepwear. She didn't bother with brushing her teeth, though. Or washing her face, or bathing any possible trace of blood off of her body. Right now, she didn't care. She didn't care about anything.

Not some psychopath womanizer, and the womanized Gryffindor. Not some handsome, naïve Ravenclaw that was currently locked up in a closet; and she _definitely_ did **not** care about some gorgeous blonde Slytherin and his _apology_.

So what if it was one of the few sincere things he's said? And what did it matter to him whether she forgave him or not? She thought they could get along fine just not talking to each other. Probably not even looking at each other. They shouldn't even acknowledge each other's presence for as long as they have to coincide in the same world.

She picked up a random piece of ripped parchment on the floor and walked to her desk to throw it in the bin located under it. In the process she saw _Hogwarts: A History_ lying blamelessly upside down on the floor, pages shuffled about in a reckless manner.

And that's when she first noticed. Her room was a mess.

No. It was a disaster. And if she remembered correctly, she hadn't left her room looking like this. She had never in her **life** left her room looking like this.

"Dear God," she whispered, looking around her room.

Random parchment was everywhere; her Potions and Arithmacy homework included. Books were thrown about and her robes were lying in no possible order on the floor of her open closet with her skirts and blouses. Her drawers however, she realized, were untouched.

'_What on earth happened here?_'

A consecutive three _bangs_ came to the door, startling Hermione to a paleness worthy of Nearly Headless Nick.

"Who is it?" she asked, moving to pick up the parchments as quickly as possible.

The person didn't reply, and instead burst through the door.

"**Excuse me**," said Hermione, in the process of picking up her last piece of parchment. "What do you think—"

She was going to ask her intruder what it was he thought he was doing, but the unbelievable look of exhausted relief that washed over his face stopped her mid-sentence.

Harry, hand still on doorknob, leaned against the door as he looked up at the ceiling and then down at the floor, seeming to catch his breath.

"Harry are you alright?" she asked, stepping to put the parchment on the desk and then walking back towards him.

Harry didn't respond, looking at her intently, almost angrily, as he stepped forward into the room. "What happened?" he demanded, closing the door. "Where were you?"

Hermione stopped short midway. "Oh I was just—"

"Parvati told me about Crabbe," interrupted Harry. "So don't even think about feeding me one of your pathetic lies."

"What d'you mean she told you about Crabbe?"

"_She told me, Hermione_," he said harshly. "She told me everything and now it's your turn."

Hermione was beside herself. "Of course it's now my turn. I haven't a clue what her business with Crabbe was and I'd very much like to know."

"And _I'd_ very much like to know what business _you_ had with him tonight."

"You make it sound like we did something together."

"I'm asking if he did anything _to_ you, Hermione."

She looked away from him. "Of course not, what're you talking about?"

"What am I talking about?! I'm talking about Ron telling me he saw Terry holding _your_ unconscious form, and Parvati sobbing to me how _you_ were in terrible danger being alone with Crabbe! That's what I'm talking about Hermione. Just what was it that happened so that you ended up unconscious and motivated a _Patil_ to care?"

"Why are you so upset?"

"Just answer the goddamn question, Granger!"

"_Granger?_" repeated Hermione. "What did _I_ do for you to be calling me by my surname?

Harry clenched his jaw and looked away from Hermione for a moment in order to collect himself. He turned back to her, looking as if it pained him to keep his tone. "Just—answer—the question."

"Harry—" began Hermione, but he cut her off.

"Look," he began sternly, but his voice failed him at his next word. "You—what is it—can't you tell—"

He looked away from her, and his whole angry façade crumbled to pieces. "Could you please tell me what happened tonight?" he said quietly.

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione, sitting down at the foot of her bed.

"Hermione," said Harry walking past her to sit down on her desk chair. "What'd he do to you?"

She looked at the floor and thought about her answer. Crabbe hit her, abused her, tried to kill her, and threatened her with sexual harrasment…to put it in nice terms. There was no way that she was going to tell him any of that.

Harry put his face at the mercy of his hands and remained there as he repeated his question, this time somewhat muffled. "Hermione what did he do to you?"

"Nothing," she lied. She turned back to Harry. "Have you any idea who did this to my room?"

Harry sighed and raised his head from his hands to look directly at her. "Hermione, please," he said. "What did he do to you? Did he…you know…hurt you in any way?"

She looked at Harry and gave him a sloppy half grin. "You worry too much. Go to bed, Harry. We'll talk in the morning."

"It _is_ morning."

"Fine we'll talk during lunch," she reasoned.

"It's that simple to you isn't it? We'll just talk about it later, and forget about it for now."

Hermione looked at him tiredly. "It doesn't seem like too much of a bad idea—"

"Don't be ridiculous, Hermione. Do you honestly believe that I'm going to be able to go to sleep not knowing what the fuck happened to you tonight? Hermione it's _four in the morning_, you can't even try to give me that crap that nothing happened cause frankly, your neck tells another story. It's all bruised up—"

"I get it Harry, I'm a mess. Can I go to bed now?"

"Not until—"

"Harry, please!" interrupted Hermione passionately. "It's really been a _very_ long night, and I'd like to rest for tomorrow! May I _please_ do that without giving you a whole account of my whereabouts?! Or do you want to know everything about my process of sleeping as well?"

Harry looked at Hermione with a mixture of anger and offense. His jaw clenched, he got up from the chair and gave it a sort of hard back kick that sent it violently against the wall behind it.

"Harry!"

"Goodnight, Hermione," was all he said before slamming her door.

* * *

"Miss _Granger,_ if you do not find this lesson worthy of you **staying awake**, then by all means exit the room right now and don't bother with your return."

Hermione's head jerked up from the desk and had the misfortune of having her nose five inches away from Snape's. "Is that understood?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Very well," said Snape, turning away from her. "What was the first potion ever created by witches?" He turned around to Hermione again, "miss Granger?"

It was odd enough that Snape should call on Hermione at all, but he knew something wasn't right with Hogwart's know-it-all. And so he'd relish in her embarrassment.

"A healing potion," she responded.

"Lovely miss Granger, there're a million healing potions to date," he sneered. "Which one might you be speaking of?"

Hermione thought for a moment, and briefly wondered if the whole of Gryffindor would lynch her for getting an answer wrong in Snape's classroom. If she recalled correctly, those were the exact words Ginny told her just last year.

"_Every time I get an answer wrong in his **stupid** class, it's a real comfort to think: well he can correct me all he wants, but he'll never correct Hermione. I swear, if you **ever** get an answer wrong in his class **I**, along with every other Gryffindor, will lynch you from the highest tree available."_

"Miss Granger, the whole class is waiting."

Hermione shifted uncomfortably under everyone's stare. This was clearly Snape's idea of entertainment. She'd give anything to wipe that smirk off his face.

_Healing potions. The first healing potion…what was it that they wanted to heal the most? Disease…wounds…colds!_

"It was the potion to heal colds! And it was banned some hundred years ago because…because…because it always had a different effect on different people and that was due to the fact that a cold has many symptoms and its never a steady…sickness…therefore affecting everyone differently."

Snape's smirk was still on his face.

"Very well, miss Granger. You sound like a perfect muggle," he said, and as if on cue, all Slytherins snickered. He turned around and walked to his desk, sitting down with that elegant air of superiority he always had. "Now would you be so kind as to give me the _proper_ name for the potion that heals colds?"

Hermione, on the spot again, searched through her brain for the answer. Surely just because she'd had a matter of one hour of sleep couldn't affect her that much.

Harry, who was sitting next to her, elbowed her and gave her a note. It was folded in a million pieces, on the first thing written on the top was _stupid_. She knew two things: it wasn't from Harry and it wasn't the answer.

She glanced at Snape, who was glancing down at a parchment, and not looking at her, asked "Miss Granger? The answer, please." He smirked at the parchment.

Hermione opened the note to the next fold. _Mudblood._

And now she knew it had to have come from a Slytherin.

She looked around their half of the room and searched for a sign on someone's face that looked like they were waiting for her reaction. Everyone looked at her back, but that was just because they were waiting for her to answer.

She opened the note to the last fold, and at last, there was what Snape had been asking her for.

"Miss Granger, I've given you quite the while to respond. I do believe—"

"The _Charles Potion_," said Hermione looking directly at Snape as his eyes snapped up from the parchment. He was furious.

"And _why_ was it called the Charles Potion?"

She remembered. "Because of two reasons: Women weren't allowed to practice magic without a wizard's supervision, so the name was put under man's so that criminal persecution wouldn't take place. Also, it was in the times of the reign of Charles the—"

The bell rang and Hermione wasn't able to finish her explanation as everyone filed out of the classroom, Gryffindors smiling at her as she packed her books.

Out in the corridor Ron smiled at her from the other side of Harry. "That was a close one, I thought I was going to have to kill you today for messing up in Snape's class."

"Really Hermione," said Dean, who came to walk on her other side. "If you ever want to prove to Hogwarts that you're human and you _don't_ know everything, do Gryffindor the favor of not doing it in Snape's class."

Hermione laughed lightly. She wouldn't be lynched today.

* * *

The days passed and it was Friday again.

Nothing truly exciting had happened that whole week. As a matter of fact, that whole week seemed almost normal. Something Hermione Granger wasn't used to.

Draco Malfoy, regardless of her attempts to put him out of her mind, was found very frequently in her thoughts.

It was funny how so much had happened that night of Draco Malfoy's apology. If anyone else was in her place, she was sure they'd be thinking more about what happened with Crabbe than with anything else. But for some reason, all that kept replaying in her mind was what happened with Draco.

How she'd slapped him. Kissed him. And most of all…how he seemed so tongue-tied to say sorry.

But now he seemed to be different. No…

He seemed to be _indifferent_.

Well what could she expect? She didn't exactly say "I accept your apology." She more or less told him to go to hell and apologize _there_.

But what _was_ she supposed to say to something like that? Fall on her knees in gratitude? Expect a romantic kiss and a happily ever after?

'_Hogwarts might be magical, but it's no fairytale_.'

So after looking out to see if Malfoy would so much as _glance_ her way, and getting disappointed almost every time, she was glad when not only lunchtime came around, but when the weekend did as well.

Hermione sat down next to Harry, who looked at her and nodded in acknowledgement.

"Good meal today?" she asked.

He shrugged, his mouth already full of food.

"It's alright," said Ron, who was sitting next to Harry's other side. "But it seems as the house-elves forgot what salt was."

Hermione wrinkled her nose in slight disgust. What the hell was a meal without salt?

"Hermione," said Harry, taking a sip of his juice. "You look beat."

"Same to you," she said. "I saw you in Potions today. Your eyelids couldn't stay open."

He smiled weakly. "Could you blame me? I mean, how many times have we done werewolves?"

Ron laughed. "Enough to last us four lifetimes."

Ginny came to sit next to Seamus and looked at both Harry and Hermione in question.

"Why do you two look so tired lately?" she asked.

"What?" asked Hermione, looking up from her newly filled plate.

"You two," repeated Ginny, this time using her index finger to move between the two. "You two have been looking tired as hell this whole week. And neither of you came to breakfast today, so I'm just asking why."

Harry looked at Hermione.

"You didn't go to breakfast today?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Why didn't you?"

"Tired."

"Me too."

They laughed. Why? They had no idea.

"And _why_ were you guys **_so_ **tired?" asked Ginny.

There was a very complicated answer to that. They hadn't talked for two days straight after their argument, having secret competitions of who could avoid who longer…thus staying up late in the common room. And after they were on speaking terms again, he and Hermione talked endlessly about absolutely nothing. "Catching up" is what they called it.

Who was going to believe any of that?

"We were just—" he began, but Hermione cut him off. She knew where this was going.

"—Making love last night," said Hermione. "Why?"

Ginny looked up from the jam she was spreading on her toast. "_Excuse me_?"

"Did I just hear a confession?" It was Seamus, who looked between the two amazed.

Harry didn't catch on and looked at Hermione as discretely as possible.

"It's not a confession, Seamus," said Hermione. "It's a fact."

She easily took a sip of her pumpkin juice and a fork-full of veggies.

Dean eased into the conversation, just as amazed. "You're messing with our heads Hermione. There's no way Harry'd—"

"Harry'd what?" inquired Harry. "Make love to Gryffindor's brightest when she's just a room away?"

"**No. Way**," said Ginny, seriousness etched in ever inch of her face. "You two…I mean…Hermione you wouldn't—"

"Sleep with famous, and recently gorgeous Harry Potter who happens to be my best friend living in the same quarters with me? It was _bound_ to happen, you all knew it from the start."

Ron decided to add more wood to the fire. "I didn't think you guys were going public this early in the relationship."

Harry and Hermione turned to look at Ron, who was trying very hard to not laugh, and quickly registered that he _was_ going along with them…that he was indeed _not_ choking with surprise or disgust.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.

"Sure are," said Harry, a bit disgusted at the thought of him and Hermione having that type of _relationship_.

"Absolutely," said Hermione, with a smile so fake it was worthy of any old unhappy housewife. "Why would Harry and I want to hide what's undeniable, right? It's not like it's a secret. Everyone knew and predicted us as a…couple…"

"Okay then," said Ginny, who in some way felt a bit betrayed. "Let's see you two kiss."

At this all three froze. "Why?" asked Ron. "Isn't it enough with them coming out about it?"

"No," said Seamus. "They could only really and truly come out with it once they exchange saliva in front of the whole school."

After a short silence, Hermione spoke first. "Well we're not into that whole—"

"Public display of affection," finished Harry.

"Right," said Hermione. "We keep all of our business to ourselves. I mean, I bet Harry _fantasizes _about it (at this Harry looked at Hermione from the corner of his eye) but I'm a bit icky about doing it in front of professors."

"…Of course…" finished Ron.

By then all knew it was all a joke, and now just looked to put them on the spot.

"Fine then," said Seamus. "I'm sure you wouldn't mind me spreading the word, do you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," said Ron. "They're not _really_ going out. Don't get the Gryffindor Gossip Squad on the two."

"Seriously," said Hermione, who all of the sudden realized she had lost her appetite.

"Really Seamus," said Dean. "Can't you just tell Harry's way out of her league? He wouldn't want to kiss her if his life depended on it."

_Here_ is where the trio found their fall to be.

"You know, you're right," said Ginny. "Harry I really didn't think you were like that. I mean, Hermione's no _Lavender_ but I was sure you'd always been the type to look past all that."

"You disappoint me mate," said Seamus.

_Don't let Gryffindor Pride kick in,_ thought Hermione. _Don't let Gryffindor Pride kick in…_

"Wait a minute," said Harry. "Are you telling me that Hermione's not attractive enough…that I wouldn't kiss her because I think she's ugly?!"

Damn.

"Oh great, now he's confessing it," said Ginny, setting her utensils down in surrender.

Hermione stood rooted to her seat, feeling herself pale in fear of the embarrassment to come. This was really a low way of getting what they wanted.

"Hermione's not ugly," said Harry, feeling the pit in his stomach for Hermione, who was quietly looking at her plate.

"But you wouldn't kiss her would you?" asked Dean.

"For completely different reasons!"

"_Right_," said Ginny, who felt that dragon insider her prickling her to continue in her spiteful mischief. "Just admit it Harry. You really _wouldn't_ kiss her."

_Her_. The way she had said that seemed as if she were speaking of someone unknown to them.

Hermione looked up at Ginny, who had a satisfying look on her face. It was all fun and games to her. And to Dean and to Seamus. She had to understand that. And yet, the young, insecure girl inside her prevented her from enjoying the joke with the others. It secretly cried every time, and lately, it was affecting her more and more.

And Harry, who had indeed met the little girl within her through the years of conversation, knew that her indurance would not last much longer. That it could only get weaker after the constant injury she's been exposed to. He knew Hermione was strong. But the young, insecure girl within was not.

"You know what?" said Harry, setting his fork down. "I _would_ kiss her."

Hermione's head snapped around to look at him. "What?!" She had no idea Harry's Gryffindor pride was that big.

"I _would_ kiss you, Hermione," he said to her, so determined it scared her a bit.

"No you wouldn't," she said.

"And why not?" asked Harry indignantly.

Hermione looked at him dead in the eye. "Because you're Harry Potter and I'm Hermione Granger and _we're_ best friends."

"Best friends make the best relationships," said Seamus, who's grand smile was sickening.

"I agree," said Hermione. "But not the best _dating_ relationships. Harry…you can't kiss me. There'd be no point to it anyway."

"And if you _do_ kiss her," said Dean, causing Harry to look at him. "It would only be a pity kiss."

At this Hermione turned pink, something Harry knew without looking.

He was furious. Didn't they know that this is what causes Hermione to refuse to look in the mirror? Didn't they know that when she finally looks at her reflection, this is what causes her to stare in disapproval?

"You four," he said, quickly looking over Ginny, Seamus, Dean and Ron. "Outside, on the grounds, now."

It was all he said before he grabbed Hermione's arm, got up and started to speed walk away.

"Wait, our bags!" protested Hermione.

"Leave it, Ron'll get 'em."

Ginny, Dean, and Seamus were grinning in amazement, looking at each other as if they couldn't believe what was about to happen.

Because they couldn't.

They watched them leave and even laughed as Ron grabbed their bags and ran to catch up to the future kissers.

"We should go now, right?" asked Dean, already getting up.

Seamus pushed him back down by his shoulder. "Easy, there," he said. "No need to rush, let the boy teach the girl what to do first. Let's give them a total of two minutes."

"Because that's all that's needed to teach her," said Dean.

"Don't be harsh," said Ginny. "Poor girl must be dying right now. I doubt she'll do it."

"Really?" said Seamus. "I think she's been waiting for this moment her whole stay at Hogwarts."

"Don't' be rash, you don't _really_ think she likes Harry do you?"

"Come on Ginny," said Dean. "They've been together for how long now? Not to mention they live in the same quarters and could read each other's minds."

"He's right," said Seamus. "Chemistry's _bound_ to happen…and I think we've just lighted the first spark."

Ginny looked at the two, the old smirk slowly crawling back. "Do you think the two minutes are up?" she asked.

No one answered her question and all three just scrambled up from their chairs and made for the doors in such a way that they caught several students' attention.

"What's going on?" asked Lavender.

"They're going to kiss!" said Ginny. Her feeling of betrayal was long gone, and there was a newfound thrill in her stomach.

"Who?!" asked Lavender, happy to have a Gryffindor voluntarily talking to her again.

"Hermione Granger and Harry Potter," said Dean.

Those sitting around Lavender (not by choice) heard as well, and got up to follow.

There was a buzz of excitement that soon possessed all Gryffindors in a matter of seconds and moved on to the Hufflepuffs and half of the Ravenclaws.

"_Harry Potter's going to kiss Hermione Granger!" _

The rest of the Ravenclaws and almost all the Slytherins were leaving the hall simply because everyone else was, and either wanted to know what was happening or thought lunchtime was over. Either way, they slowly filed out of the hall and followed the commotion. Draco Malfoy was one of them.

* * *

"Harry, what're you _doing_?!" asked Hermione as she and Harry walked out the castle doors. She snatched her arm out of his grip, which caused both to stop their strut and look at each other for a moment.

"I'm going to kiss you," he said, and started to walk away again.

"Hence the question, Harry," said Hermione, an edge of impatience in her voice as she hurried to keep up with his step.

"Calm down, everything's going to be fine," he said, turning around to look past Hermione and at the castle doors. "Wonder what's keeping them up."

"Harry could you _please_ concentrate on the dilemma at hand?" she snapped. "This is _serious_, Harry. What the hell is wrong with you; going off and telling them that you're to kiss me. Are you out of your bloody mind?"

"It's _just a kiss_ Hermione. Mouth to mouth, nothing worth getting stressed over."

At the mention of _mouth to mouth,_ Hermione stopped in her tracks for an instant, allowing her jaw to drop in disbelief and disgust. "Harry, that is most definitely **not **_just a kiss_."

Harry laughed that cocky _virgins are so funny_ laugh and, just as he turned around and stopped to talk to her, she started walking again. "Look, Hermione—would you wait a minute? I'm doing this for you—"

Hermione, who had well walked a bit past him, spun around and caused Harry to halt in his step. "Oh _really_? Harry Potter out sacrificinghimself for the good of others again?"

"Hermione that's not what I meant—"

"Well I don't need any favors, so you could pretty much just take this whole _offer_ of yours and shove it up that—"

"It's only a kiss! Grow up, will you? Stop acting like the goddess of Prudence."

"There's no _need_ to be the goddess of _anything_ to not want to kiss you—"

"Oh that's rich! Here I am trying to stick up for you—"

"Stick up for me?! Well _thank you_ for the medieval chivalry, there's really no need—"

"This is what I get? I'm about to kiss you and you're acting like this?!"

"I never _wanted_ you to kiss me!"

"But I do!"

Hermione looked taken aback and Harry made a start, but stopped. "That didn't come out right. What I _meant_ to say is that, I need to do this."

"Why?" asked Hermione, observing him closely.

"To prove to people that you're not disgusting."

"Let them figure it out for themselves, Harry."

"Don't you understand?!" he snapped. "Everyone thinks that anyone in their right mind would rather kiss a blasted-ended shrewt before they kiss you."

"So what, Harry?"

"So I'm going to prove them wrong. I'm going to show Dean, and Seamus, and Ginny that I won't catch some…disease in kissing you. That the fact that you're not my girlfriend is not because you're unattractive or because nothing ever happened between us so that I have some…_grand_ epiphany of how much I really loved you. That we're really just friends, and that there _is_ someone willing to kiss you without any intent of hurting you or having a good laugh."

"And you plan on being this person?

Harry shrugged his shoulders so that she understood that there was no better or more complicated reason than that. "That's all it is Hermione. A kiss to show those three that I don't consider you the most horrid—."

"I know you don't," said Hermione. "But I also know that kissing me is disgusting to the _both_ of us."

Harry smiled. "We'll live."

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned to walk away again. "No we won't."

"Yes we will," said Harry, running to catch up, and finally putting himself in her way. "We're going to tap kiss and that'll be that."

"What are you two _thinking_ doing this?!"

They turned to find Ron, who because of the argument, had not been noticed when he had stepped out of the castle doors.

Harry shot him a glare, and Hermione seemed to crumble into her previous state. "You see?! I'm not the only one and Ron is **no** god of Prudence."

"I just think you two are in for the gossip of your lives if you decide to go through with this."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry.

"Come on, Harry. You don't seriously think that the rest of our house isn't going to find out, do you?"

"But that's exactly why I told them to come out here. So that all of Gryffindor didn't witness it."

Ron looked at Harry as if lost. "Wait, what? Do repeat that again. I seemed to have missed the part where that made sense."

"Typical," said Harry. "I came out here so that we don't make a great spectacle out of ourselves. Last thing we need is all of Gryffindor jumping up and cheering in the middle of the Great Hall."

Hermione considered his statement. "Regardless they're going to find out."

"No they're not. We'll make them swear secrecy."

"Sorry to disappoint you, mate," said Ron. "But Gryffindor's loyalty doesn't apply to good gossip."

"I'm sure this'll be the exception," said Harry.

Hermione laughed loudly and exaggeratedly.

"What's so funny?" asked Harry, clearly the magnitude of the situation was settling in.

"Harry," said Hermione. "This is _Hogwarts_. There _are_ no exceptions."

"Precisely," said Ron, and it occurred to Hermione that they were on the same side against Harry. Very rare.

"You know what? I'm starting to think this isn't the brightest idea."

"Good Lord I think he's got it!" said Ron, who was starting to look weighed down by Harry and Hermione's book bags.

"I'm just tired of people thinking that _no one_ would ever kiss you. I'm about to show them that someone _is_ willing to."

"Well find out some other way to do it cause there's no way this one's the best," said Ron, and shifted the bags' weight around till he was comfortable.

Harry looked at the grass as a cold winter-like wind blew into his face. "There's no other way," he told the grass.

"What are you talking about?!" yelled Hermione.

"This is insane," said Ron, laughing as he did so. Hermione shot him a glare.

"Hermione, just relax," said Harry, turning to her. "Kissing is easy…it's just…touch of lip-to-lip. And then we separate…"

Hermione was beside herself. "Harry we _can't _kiss! It's…it's **illegal**. They'll surely send us to Azkaban for this—"

"You're being dramatic. It's just a kiss."

"If you say it's _just a kiss_ again I'll be forced to hex you into next week."

Ron laughed again. "Someone's a bit upset, eh?"

"Ron shut up."

"Hermione," began Harry, but she cut him off.

"Harry, they'll _never_ let us live this down!" screamed Hermione. "Do-do you remember that time in Snape's class where he called us Mr. and Mrs. Potter and all day I had to put up with 'Hermione Potter sounds perfect' and you had to put up with 'so where's the wife?' Do you remember?!"

"Yeah," said Harry. He turned to look at the grass again as he reminisced on the most annoying day of his life.

"Well we'll be living that day from now till graduation!"

Harry let this sink in.

"Harry please. You might be able to put up with that kind of pressure but I highly doubt _I_ could. Not to mention this is NEWTS year and Romilda Vane's my Ancient Runes partner."

Harry looked up from the grass. The mention of Romilda Vane seemed to do the trick.

"You think they'd understand?" Harry asked both Hermione and Ron. "I mean, they'd understand that I don't want to kiss Hermione cause she's like my _sister, _not because I think she's ugly. Cause Hermione," said Harry, directing his full focus on just her. "I think you're really pretty."

"How nice," she said. "I very much appreciate it but you don't need to do this to make me feel better or any of that. Just explain what you just said to us to Ginny, Dean, and Seamus and I'm sure they'll understand."

"Yeah," said Ron in a very sarcastic tone. "Cause Ginny's the type to _understand_."

"Don't talk like that about your sister, Ron," said Hermione.

Ron made a face at her and Hermione gave him a look that said _oh real mature_. So much for being on the same side.

But Harry was preoccupied with something else that had caught his eye.

"Hermione it's not going to work. It's really, _really_ not going to work."

"Yes it is, Harry! They're not going to force us to do something they _know_ would be too weird for us."

"Ginny, Seamus and Dean might not…eventually… but everyone else will."

"Who cares, Harry? They're not going to even _find out._"

Harry pointed past the other two and Ron and Hermione turned to face everyone else in Hogwarts filing out of the castle doors.

"Smart move, mate," said Ron. "You came out here so that Gryffindor wouldn't find out, but now there's enough room for the every house to get a good look."

Ron shifted the bags again and started walking away to join his sister. "You guys are screwed. Good luck though!"

Harry glared at him as he left towards the crowd. "You've got a wretched sense of humor, Ronald Weasley."

* * *

"What is it, a duel?" asked Malfoy, walking out to the grounds.

"Probably," said Blaise. "But I'll tell you one thing, no duel has ever gathered this much of a crowd."

"Why d'you think I'm here?" said Malfoy. "A duel with this much spectators _must_ be worth my time."

"Oh you two," said Pansy, walking to catch up with the pair. "No one's fighting at all!"

Malfoy didn't even have the decency to look at her. He hasn't since that night at the astronomy tower.

"Then what's everyone looking at?" asked Theodore Nott, who happened to be on Pansy's other side.

"Really, you think people would be more selective on their entertainment," said Blaise sourly.

Pansy laughed an attempt of seduction and nonchalance that turned out to sound malicious. "It's got something to do with that precious Granger of yours, Draco."

This caught his attention. "_Precious_?" he challenged, still not looking at her.

"Well Draco," she said, her tone of seduction a bit more successful. "No one here could deny that you've given the mudblood quite the…_sympathy_," she finally got him to look at her. "…Or dare I say…_empathy_…"

Draco's jaw clenched as he looked away from her again. "You very well know I don't sympathize, much less empathize, Parkinson. I'd keep that big fat mouth of yours shut if I were you."

"But before you do," cut in Blaise. "Do tell us what's this whole thing got to do with _Granger,"_ asked Blaise. "Don't tell me she's about to fight Millicent again."

They had reached the crowd and had stopped walking.

"I thought I already said no one was dueling," she snapped.

"Well you haven't said anything useful either, Parkinson, you might as well start now," said Theodore Nott.

Pansy turned to look at him with a mischievous smile on, but turned to look at Draco in order to see the effect of her words.

"Potter's kissing the mudblood, that's what," she sneered.

* * *

"_Everyone's_ come out here to watch?" Hermione asked Harry, not believing the body of students stopping not too far from her as onlookers to a show.

A show she and Harry were starring in.

"Looks like," said Harry. Hermione turned to look at him helplessly, causing Harry's features to soften in guilt.

"Don't look now, Hermione," said Harry, looking past her. "But I think I see Slytherins there, too."

_Oh no._

Not more than ten feet away was Hermione able to see Malfoy and Zabini burst through the crowd, pushing and shoving all in their way, and getting front row seats right next to Dean. Malfoy looked at her furiously, and Hermione turned away quickly.

The one time she gets his attention all week and it's to kiss someone else.

"Of course Malfoy's not going to miss this," muttered Harry. "And there's you're precious Boot right next to Ginny."

Hermione turned back around and found Terry looking at her and Harry as if confused.

"Harry if this happens, we're going to mess up my chances with Terry."

"Is that a promise?" he snarled.

"_Harry_! Has it ever occurred to you that maybe the best way to prove to others that someone _might_ like me is by letting me actually _be_ liked by someone? Perhaps Terry?"

Harry scowled in disgust. "But he's so…so…_snotty_."

Hermione grabbed for his robe's sleeve and pulled it once in anger. "Harry _please_. He could hear you," she muttered.

He looked at her quizzically. "Over this crowd? _I_ could hardly hear myself," he said, and snatched his sleeve back with a pointed look. "I don't like him for you."

"_Please_ Harry?" she asked, looking around to see if anyone could hear them. "Just…not now, okay?"

"Would you look at that, everybody!"

Hermione felt a boulder hit her stomach as she heard Malfoy's voice echo through the grounds. "Looks like Potter's rethinking kissing mudblood Granger! Just look at her beg!"

The Slytherins that were able to hear laughed, but everyone else slowly became silent and looked on. Hermione chose to ignore him.

"Harry we can't do this in front of the whole school. Look there's your ex-girlfriend Catherine—" began Hermione, but Harry wasn't listening.

"I'm not rethinking anything Malfoy, and it surprises me you even care."

"I wouldn't miss this for the world, Pothead," he said. "The most awkward kiss to happen at Hogwarts." He laughed. "It'll go down in history."

"Do I sense a bit of envy there?" said Harry.

"Sorry to disappoint you Potter, I don't envy charity."

There were hardly any gasps, jaws dropping, or any form of surprise at his daring statement. There _was_ an air of discomfort. The type that can only bring a blunt and popular opinion. A lot of Gryffindors were, however, offended at the insult directed to one of their own.

Hermione caught Draco's eye and saw a flash of guilt, the type that flies past once you realized you've made the same mistake for the millionth time.

He looked away mini-seconds later.

Hermione looked down at the floor, being allowed to _glance_ at it before she felt a hand grab her chin and Harry's lips press against hers.

And then they separated.

Harry looked at everyone as if he just proved himself, but as soon as he turned to them, the crowd rose in anger and began to severely protest.

A whole bunch of "**That's not a real kiss!**" and an even greater number of "**That doesn't count!**" were flung their way.

To Hermione, the kiss had been far more than enough. She was blushing as it was and was absolutely horrified when they said that it didn't count.

"_What do you **mean** it doesn't count?! We kissed!!_"

Everyone just kept telling her "no" until somewhere in the middle of the crowd a chant (started by Lavender) started to demand what had been missing.

"_Tongue! Tongue! Tongue! Tongue!…"_

There was no escaping it, and there was no way Harry and Hermione were giving in.

"Come on! I said I'd kiss her not that I'd make out with her!!" yelled Harry, but the crowd only got louder.

"What's the matter, Potter? Disgustingly disappointed on the first try?" yelled Blaise.

Harry stood on his spot. _Yes_ he answered in his head. _I feel like I just kissed my sister._

Draco stood, arms crossed, and stared dead on at Hermione as everyone around him jumped like a bunch of imbecile first years.

He was just as content with the tap kiss.

Well, content wasn't actually the word. But he was definitely **more** than satisfied.

He saw her agitated way of telling others that the pathetic tap kiss had been far enough, and he most definitely agreed. If that Potter got anywhere closer to kissing Hermione the way _he_ did, he didn't know what he'd do but it wouldn't be pretty.

"**Come on, Harry!**" yelled Seamus, reminding Draco of the hard-core fans in quidditch. "**Kiss her like you know you can!**"

_Don't even think about it Potter,_ thought Draco. _The mudblood is mine._

The thought itself sent such a shock through his system that Draco's eyes widened as his stare removed itself from Hermione to the cold grass on the ground. Even his arms had uncrossed themselves to hang stiffly on his side. What was going on with him?

_The mudblood is **nothing** of mine,_ he corrected. _And I **want** those two to kiss so that I could forever make fun of them._

He resolved this to be the solution to his troubling thoughts, and decided to act on it.

Draco, whom due to the crazy crowd behind him was close enough to the couple to yell slightly and be heard, said: "If you're going to do _charity_, Potter, be _charitable_. Regardless of how much she smells like fish."

Harry snapped to look at him, and Hermione knew what was coming. Or at least she thought she knew.

Certainly a brawl, verbal or physical, was going to happen between the two. She had never seen Harry's eyes burn up so quickly. And yet, there was something in Harry's expression that told a tale of confusion when he stared at Draco's face. Into his steal eyes, almost as if noticing something more.

Hermione grew pale. Was Harry suspecting something between her and Malfoy?

Hermione almost laughed. That was impossible. Any possible trace of such a theory had long died the day Harry woke up in the hospital wing next to Ron.

"C'mon now! **Kiss her you git**!" yelled Ron, laughing at the shocked and betrayed look he received from Hermione's face.

But somehow, he knew that kissing Hermione would anger Malfoy. Harry let it pass as something that would irritate a Malfoy like something disgusting ought to.

Nonetheless, angering Malfoy was what he lived for. And here was his chance to infuriate him.

Harry, like any old dramatic romance character, grabbed Hermione (having gone back to answering to the protests) by the waist with one extended arm, spun her around, and pulled her toward him. His lips caught hers in a perfect classical moment.

Then he used his tongue and all class left the pair as the kiss turned modern and fiery.

He kissed her passionately, and Hermione couldn't help but enjoy it, and wanting to match his ingenious, began to kiss him back just as skillfully. She placed her hands on his neck and let them lay there.

It was as if they were filming a scene in a romance movie, in someone else's situation. Hermione wasn't Hermione, and Harry wasn't Harry. They were Scarlet and Red from Gone with the Wind, or Juliet and Romeo from one of Shakespeare's tragedies.

It was like they were playing pretend and convincing everyone else was the game.

To the spectator, it looked as if the two just realized they were in love the whole time and got caught up in the moment. A moment that happened to have been _coincidentally_ pressured by everyone else, that if it weren't for those circumstances, they would have never stopped denying their love.

And **now** there were gasps and jaws slammed onto the floor, eyes wide and hands covering mouths.

There were also eyes being covered in disgust and Slytherins at the far left pretending to hurl on a nearby tree and laughing.

But for the most part, there was a cheer worthy of a long-expected wedding.

The kiss finished in faultless perfection, Harry gently pulling away as Hermione's hands slid off his chest.

The scene was over, and everyone, including the puking Slytherins, quickly began to quiet down. What had just happened wasn't only being digested by Harry and Hermione, but by everyone else.

Draco Malfoy was a man of his word. He said he didn't know what he'd do, and now he had no idea. And it wasn't pretty. He felt colder than ice with the white **rage** that caused his body to tremble. How he wanted to pound Potter's face to a pulp. How he wanted to just push him out of the way and show him how a real man kisses Hermione Granger.

And why had she kissed him back?

She should have rejected him. She should have pushed him away and slapped him like she's done to him a countless amount of times.

Not that he _cared_ for her or anything of the sort. Certainly this reaction was due to the fact that he had yet another obstacle to overcome to win that bet.

At this point, all the Gryffindors started running and screaming towards the pair like they were celebrating a victory over Slytherin.

Neville, on his way to the huge Gryffindor pile ahead, caught sight of Draco and though he didn't stop, he turned his head and said "Hey Malfoy!"

He turned to face Longbottom.

"How's _that_ for charity?"

Draco's face contorted into the most horrible snarl that even made _him_ look unattractive.

_Too damn generous.

* * *

_

"She stole him from me."

"Don't be an idiot, Hermione Granger wouldn't know the first thing about stealing a man."

"She's certainly very successful at it."

"Maybe he _likes_ her. Ever thought of that one, Romilda?"

She scoffed. "Harry's got much better taste than _that._"

"Well by the looks of that kiss on the grounds it seems that she's just what he was looking for."

Romilda Vane turned away from the bathroom mirror to look at her friend, Chen Dan.

"There is **nothing** in Hermione Granger that could interest Harry in the least bit."

Chen Dan just rolled her eyes and walked past her friend to look in the mirror. "Romilda you really need to get over Harry Potter. He's handsome and all, but he's not interested in you and you've been hooked on him for an unhealthy amount of time."

"Oh don't act as if you haven't been_ hooked_ on Harry Potter," she snapped.

"Liked him, yes," answered Chen, arranging her long straight hair that matched the black pupil of her eyes. "But I've let go of that _crush_ ages ago."

"Because you never liked him like I did," she said, walking up next to her friend. "And right now, all I want is to…give that Hermione Granger a bit of a warning to stay away."

"And how do you plan on doing that?" asked Chen through the mirror. "Incase you've forgotten, that Granger's Headgirl."

"Of course I haven't forgotten," answered Romilda, irate. "How many times has she taken points away from her own house for late-night wanderers?"

"She did give you a fair three warnings on different nights and you continued to wander the halls late. You weren't even studying late or anything. You were meeting up with Boot—"

"Hush!" yelled Romilda, finally turning and communicating directly. "Not another word about that."

Chen rolled her eyes and walked away from the mirror to lean against a stall door. "You act as if someone's here."

"You never know," said Romilda. "And the last thing needed to be blurted out here is **that**."

Chen laughed. "You've had the idea that Harry and Hermione have liked each other ever since the year started just because they live in the same quarters."

"Correction my dear," said Romilda. "Granger likes Harry, and **now **that they have the same commonroom, she might take advantage—"

"Tough chance Hermione taking advantage of anything other than a lesson."

Romilda smiled and leaned against the sink. "Even so, you could never be too careful."

"No," said Chen. "_You_ need to realize that you're not Harry Potter's type. Incase you haven't noticed he's never really been into you."

"You're funny. Harry Potter always looks for me in the hallways, I've noticed."

"Yeah, and once he finds you he searches for something to occupy himself with."

"That's just because he's nervous."

"That's just because he wants to avoid you."

"Don't be rash Harry Potter loves me. He just needs a bit of help seeing that."

Chen shook her head in spite of her friend and laughed as they left the bathroom. Poor Hermione Granger had no idea what was in store for her. Romilda Vane was a very dirty player.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was in a very bad mood. Storming down the hallway, pushing anyone out of his way, he was looking for a duel. Someone to take his anger out on.

_Why the hell had she kissed him? What did **he** have? Green eyes? Fame? A stupid thunderbolt on his forehead?_

He was burning with fury. He needed to duel it out of his system.

But fighting Potter would be too obvious, so he'd resolved to choosing someone random and pretend it was the scarhead instead.

He couldn't help but constantly picture, with every step, how he held her. How she responded. How they looked so…_in love_?

**But he wasn't supposed to care**.

The thought alone made him quicken his step, shoving the stupid Divination teacher as he did.

"**Mr. Malfoy!**" she reprimanded. "Do watch where you go!"

Normally he would have turned around and apologized in an overly sickeningly way. But not today. He just kept on walking.

Professor Trelawney huffed and turned around, continuing her way to the North Tower.

He turned sharply and quickly around the corner, and like in the previous school year, collided with none other than Hermione Granger.

"I'm so sorry—"

And of course she wasn't able to finish her sentence because, once again, Draco Malfoy had surprised her. Not even Malfoy, insult already in mind, uttered a sound at this unbelievable coincidence.

"Malfoy…" acknowledged Hermione, looking down.

"…Granger…" said Draco, in a tone so harshly cold that it sent a chill down her spine. "I assume your bodyguards are around?" he asked, looking past her.

Hermione shook her head. "I just escaped—I mean—we all just escaped…the crowd..."

"That was a while ago."

"It was, but we're still avoiding…questions."

"I see," he answered stiffly.

Hermione licked her lips and looked down at the floor. This was the moment she had been wanting all week. To bump into him and talk, and now that it happened she had nothing at all to say.

But she couldn't possibly leave without saying anything. She had to say _something._ They had already greeted each other, so what was left?

"Where you headed?" she said finally, and mentally slapped herself immediately. If there was one thing you didn't do it was ask him where he was going or what he was doing.

"None of your fucking business," he answered calmly.

"I see," answered Hermione, and she briefly remembered the piece of gossip at the Gryffindor breakfast table two days prior. Fabulous, devilish and unfortunately gorgeous Draco Malfoy had taken away the virginity of a sixth year Slytherin girl. They hadn't even dated, but he had been messing with her head for the past week or so, and was now listed as yet another booty call. If anyone knew Draco Malfoy, that's where they'd bet he was heading.

"Well then," said Hermione, pursing her lips slightly. "I won't stall you any longer. You shouldn't keep her waiting."

Draco smirked and stepped in Hermione's way as she tried to walk around him. "Who said anything about a _she_?"

Hermione's face started to burn. "Oh—well—I…assumed…you were on your way to—"

Draco's stare made her uncomfortable, and the look of a secret satisfaction that was visible in his eyes and in that smirk of his destroyed any train of thought she could have possibly had.

"What's the matter Granger? Cat got your tongue?"

Hermione just looked up at the blonde before her, a slow anger settling in.

But Draco was way ahead of her as a picture of her and Potter kissing out on the grounds entered his brain.

"Tell me," he began, his voice dripping in sarcasm. "How well does infamous Harry Potter kiss?"

Hermione looked away for a moment. "I don't believe that's any—"

"Did he sweep you off your feet? Did he send butterflies to your stomach? Come on, Granger. Share the goods."

Hermione looked back at Draco with blazing eyes. "You might have apologized to me, Malfoy," she whispered angrily. "But you very well know that I didn't accept it."

"I do know that," he said in a low, very angry voice. "The reason for it is what I lack knowledge of."

"Are you telling me," she continued in whispers. "That you've no idea _why_ it could be that I didn't forgive you that night?!"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you," he whispered, lowering his head so that their faces were closer. "An insult, as harsh as it may be, is not nearly as bad coming from my house as it is coming from yours."

"_Pardon me_?"

"I've _heard_ them," whispered Draco angrily. "They insult you the same way Slytherin did that night at the Astronomy Tower. Do you think there's much of a difference from what we did in one night in comparison to what Dean Thomas does _every morning_?"

"_Dean Thomas_—"

"And it's not just him either!" he whispered harshly. "Your Ronald Weasley does it too, and you very well know it's true."

Hermione looked into Draco's blazing silver eyes, her own just as angry. "My house has _never_ insulted me half as bad as you and your Slytherin whorehouse did that night."

"Whorehouse they may be," said Draco. "But Slytherin would never insult one of their own like your precious Gryffindor does to you every day."

Hermione laughed sadistically. "You must be joking. _Slitherin_ insults each other instead of saying hello."

"When we do it's out of mere fury, not for trivial pleasure or as a common joke."

"Better off a joke then actually meaning it in a state of anger!" she whispered harshly.

Draco snarled. "Do you really believe they think no truth behind their _jokes_? Come on Granger, you're smart. You're no fool, why do you let them insult you like that?"

He gave a sarcastic laugh and continued. "You certainly don't let anyone you care for be insulted. Like that oaf you're so dear of."

Hermione looked sideways at the floor remembering the heartfelt slap she had given him in their third year.

"Funny you never apologized for that one," said Draco.

Hermione snapped up to look at him. "You deserved it!"

"And you deserve to get harsh insults only from Slytherin, Gryffindor's enemy. Not Gryffindor itself or any of its brother-houses."

"Excuse you but these 'jokes' as you call them aren't around all of Gryffindor. They're between my circle of friends whom _happen_ to be in Gryffindor and it's n-not as often as you—"

"Unless I wasn't aware of when Gryffindor emerged with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, I've heard plenty of times when one from your house _jokes_ about you with someone from _another_ house."

Hermione tried to keep a straight face, but it was evident that he was getting to her. She hadn't ever thought that she was the subject of so much ridicule, and to have this shoved at her face immediately in an encounter, and by none other than Draco Malfoy, is not very comforting.

Hermione looked straight at Draco, who was observing her with a stern, cold face. "Whom have you heard…whom have…"

How was she to finish that sentence? Whom have you heard _joke_ about me? Whom have you heard _speak_ about me to someone of another house? Whom have you heard _talk_ about me?

Draco noticed, and though his features didn't soften in the least bit, he answered her unfinished question. "I'm not going to lie to you Granger it's not a daily affair, but I have heard it quite the number of times. This is of course," he continued, jerking his head once sideways. "Excluding Slytherins."

Hermione looked about the floor. What did she expect, an answer? She knew better than that. Draco Malfoy would be the first to snitch on a Gryffindor, but not if it was going to benefit _another_ Gryffindor. Of course, the information wouldn't exactly benefit her at all…

Hermione looked up again, and when, out of nervous habit, went to grab her book bag strap, she realized that Ron still had it with him.

"I have to go," she said in a low voice.

Draco felt a pit in his stomach. He didn't want her to go just yet.

"Y-you didn't answer my question," he said.

"What question?"

"How good of a kisser is Pothead?" he asked scornfully.

"An excellent on," said Hermione spitefully. "The best one yet."

Draco Malfoy felt an old and dangerous flame burn inside of him as jealousy took over his whole being. He clenched his jaw and his fists for a moment before releasing both.

"I'll show you best yet," he said, and next thing Hermione knew, she was slammed against the wall and Draco Malfoy's lips were pressed against hers.

Hermione didn't exactly resist, and soon found Draco's tongue inside her mouth.

He kissed her deeply, his heart racing with every passing moment. All he wanted was more of her and he had no explanation why. He felt butterflies in his stomach and this inexplicable joy of being in contact with her that caused him to want to kiss her in such a way that she'd never again call anybody else's kiss her best yet.

He wanted every bit of her for him and for him only.

And he was going to have her.

"I don't know where it is she could have gone off to. Both Harry and her ran for it after the teasing questions started, but Harry says that they separated once inside the castle."

It was Ginny's voice, and she was coming from the hallway where Draco had come from.

They both separated and looked around desperately, both searching for a place to hide.

Draco grabbed Hermione by her wrist, pulled her away from the wall, and started running down the hall. In every door-window he looked through, there was a class in session, which meant there was no place to hide in this corridor.

"Damn," he muttered, and Hermione quickly responded a "'mind your language, Malfoy."

Draco would have smirked at the very Hermione-like response, but given the circumstances at hand, he was far too preoccupied to really bother with reactions.

Hermione looked back and saw Ginny, who was talking with Seamus, turn the corner. They were in plain view, and Draco was still bothering with looking through classroom windows.

Neither Ginny nor Seamus had looked down the hall yet, still consumed in their conversation. Hermione, taking advantage, quickly twisted her hand so that it was grabbing his and pulled him around the corner.

Draco, who was caught by surprise, turned to glare at her. With a pointed look he snatched his wrist away from her grip, but was prevented from demanding royal respect by Hermione, who shushed him as soon as he opened his mouth.

Clenching his jaw he followed Hermione's example as he leaned against the wall.

"We could always just check in the library," said Seamus.

Draco snorted quietly, causing Hermione to give him a good elbow in the ribs.

"Neville already checked there," answered Ginny. "And why would she run off to the one place she's always expected to be found?"

"We've spent the last hour searching for her," said Seamus irritably. "Where on earth could she possibly hide?"

"Wherever it is, she can't hide there forever," said Ginny. "Harry'll get a fit looking for her. Probably think she's with Terry Boot."

Seamus laughed. "Did you see the poor bloke?! I couldn't tell if he looked crushed or angry."

"Personally I thought he just looked insulted," said Ginny. "Walked right out after it ended."

"Can you blame him? I always believed he had a thing for our Hermione."

"Oh shut up, you never thought such a thing," said Ginny. "But I won't be surprised if everyone's going to have a _thing_ for talking to Hermione from now on. I almost feel guilty."

"What're you talking about?" asked Seamus.

"Because of us both her and Harry are going to be both the ridicule and gossip of Hogwarts."

"Don't beat yourself up for it, Ginny. They obviously like each other after that tasty kiss."

Hermione was so caught up with hearing more about herself that she didn't realize Ginny and Seamus were catching up to their corner until Draco grabbed her wrist once more and began to run down the corridor again.

Draco, whom Hermione had great difficulty keeping up with, halted and took a quick glance back, and a glance around the corner. Hermione naturally bumped into him once he stopped.

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly.

Draco put a finger to his lips and gave her a quick glare.

Hermione leaned against him in order to look around the corner and realized the upredicament they were in.

Pansy Parkinson was headed their way while Seamus and Ginny were nearing onto the same corridor they were in.

"If Parkinson sees me with you I won't hear the end of it," said Draco. "And I'm guessing the same goes for you and the two knuckleheads behind us."

"Their names are Virginia Weasley and Seamus Fin—"

"Granger I don't really care."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Why had she even bothered?

"Well we're not getting out of this by just standing here," she said.

"That's obvious, Granger. But where do you suggest we hide? Behind that painting over there, or in that classroom full of first years?"

Hermione pursed her lips and glanced at the floor for an answer. "The library," she said.

"An answer worthy of you," he growled, and looked down the hallway again.

"Oh shut up, who'd find us _there_?"

"Everyone looking for _you_."

"They wouldn't look there because it would be too obvious for me to be there."

"Still you'd have one moron…Longbottom was it?…who goes to take a look based on the fact that you're always there and guess what? He finds you."

"Neville already looked and word's gotten out that I wasn't there."

"And you honestly think no one else is going to try?"

"Well if everyone knows that I wasn't—"

"Think of somewhere else, Granger."

Hermione's scowled at the rude interruption, but it wasn't long before the responsibility on her hands registered as something that had to be done immediately.

She found herself getting nervous, and amongst hearing Ginny and Seamus' voices getting louder, grabbed Draco's wrist again, and began to run straight down, turning on a clear corridor.

Pansy Parkinson completely missed the whole situation as she walked pompously, head held high…and examining her nails.

Meanwhile Ginny and Seamus had already turned the corridor while Hermione and Draco were still on the run.

"Is that Hermione?" asked Ginny.

"Where?"

"She just turned the corner did you see her?"

"Ginny there's no way that she could have just disappeared like that."

"I'm telling you she just turned the corner."

"I didn't see a thing."

"That's impossible, you had to have seen her mop of hair," asked Ginny, looking down the hall and starting to wonder if the figure that had just disappeared around a corner had been a fragment of her imagination.

"No, why?"

Ginny pursed her lips. "Forget it. Hermione wouldn't run away from us."

* * *

Hermione and Draco dodged behind everything. Knights, vases, staircases. By the time they had reached an empty classroom Hermione couldn't prevent herself from laughing.

"_That_ was what you came up with?" Draco half whispered, somewhat amused. He closed the door behind him. "I tell you to think up of something and you just run?"

"We didn't get caught did we?" asked Hermione pointedly, taking a seat on a nearby desk.

"There's no telling seeing as we could've been spotted by some random person we ourselves didn't see."

"Nonsense. Our escape was perfectly executed."

"That's of course leaving out the two knights you knocked down—"

"_I_ did not knock them down."

"I beg to differ," he smirked. "You turned to make sure I was behind you and when you turn back around you find yourself smashing into the poor armor."

"That's not—"

"Twice."

"—You're full of it—"

"Not to mention that vase you nearly broke," he scoffed, making his way to a desk.

"Okay _that_ was you," said Hermione, turning as he passed her. "I pulled your sleeve to hurry up, you yanked it away and nearly knocked the vase in the process."

Draco turned to answer her as he sat at the designated area. "I think you've just proven my point, Granger."

Hermione, getting quite frustrated, narrowed her eyes in confusion. "How have I proven _your_ point when I'm telling you that _you_ nearly broke the vase, not me."

"First off Granger, you didn't say that. What you _did_ say was that you pulled my arm and because I had to yank it out I nearly knocked over a vase."

"…Malfoy I don't understand a thing you're saying. You say I'm proving your point—

"—Which you are—"

"But in reality you're proving mine."

"Wrong. It's your fault that I almost knocked over the vase. If you hadn't of tried to _touch me_, that incident wouldn't've happened."

Hermione gave Draco a second's more glance before she rolled her eyes away from him. She was very aggravated at the look of amusement on his face.

Hermione didn't respond, as she knew that it would be completely pointless.

"What's the matter, Granger? Not worth arguing with me anymore?"

"How'd you guess?" said Hermione, seriously vexed.

"One of the many gifts, Granger."

"I didn't know being an ass was a gift of yours, Malfoy. Though I must admit, nobody's as good at it as you are. "

"I get that a lot," said Draco, a smirk smothered onto his face.

"Well you are the biggest ass of the school," reasoned Hermione.

"And nobody's as good at it as I am."

"Exactly."

"Hell Brown even said I was her best yet. But again, I get that a lot as well."

Hermione found herself turning pink with the mixture of embarrassment and frustration that the conversation was causing her.

"I-I don't need to hear any of that, Malfoy," she said.

"And why is that, Granger? Jealous, perhaps?"

Hermione gave a little laugh, her face's color betraying her with a deep crimson. "You wish," she answered, refusing to look at his very amused features.

"You know," said Draco, breaking a small silence and looking even more amused. "We could've just pretended to be arguing, all of Hogwarts would have bought that."

"What are you talking about?"

"Out in the hallway. Instead of running here, we could've just pretended to fight. You know, put up a fake argument."

"We _were_ having an argument."

"Sorry to have to be the one to correct you but you're using the wrong adjective. We weren't fighting we were snogging."

Hermione opened her mouth to retaliate, but found herself at loss for words as she remembered the previous session. The kiss **had** been amazing, and she couldn't help wanting a bit more of it.

"Well…w-we stopped. Why couldn't we pretend to be arguing then?"

"Because if we did, we'd end up having to go our separate ways," said Draco, that infamous smirk on his face. "And then I wouldn't be able to do this."

He pushed himself off the desk and sauntered to Hermione before taking hold of her face with both his hands and pressing his lips against hers.

But Hermione was no guinea pig and quickly pushed him off. There was no way…after he had embarrassed her with her own pleasures…that she would let him kiss her so easily.

But he just smirked.

"What's wrong? Upset that you want me so badly?"

"Don't be so sure of yourself, Malfoy."

"Well you prove me right each and every time, Granger."

"Because the constant slapping and shoving, insulting and not to mention kissing Harry Potter earlier today proves that I'm just _dying_ to be with you."

His smirk turned to scowl.

"Why _did_ you kiss him, Granger?"

"As I said before I don't believe that's any of your business."

Draco struggled to give a smile of nonchalance, but it ended up making him look like he was disgusted.

"I was just—wondering," he said with some difficulty. "I mean, you've always fought against the rumors that you and Potter were more than just friends. I can't help but ask myself why it is that you'd…throw it all away…"

Hermione didn't answer. Instead she bit the inside of her lip and looked sideways.

"The way you two kissed out there," said Draco, the whole flashback getting the better of him. "It—it looked like you two were very much—"

"Looks could be highly deceiving, Malfoy. You'd do well in remembering that."

"Don't give me that bullshit!" he snapped, instantly forgetting about his previous mood. "Trying to sound wise like that old fart Dumbledore—"

"_Do not_ speak of Dumbledore in such a **barbaric**—"

"I wasn't speaking of him in any way insulting, Hermione. If you were half as smart as you show to be you would have understood that."

"Well it looks like my intelligence, however small it may be, is just the right amount to beat yours."

"If a _slug_ were to study as long as you do, he'd get top grades as well!"

"Are you suggesting that a slug is capable of doing what _you_ can't?"

"_No. _What I'm suggesting is that you're pathetically daft enough to study two _months_ before a test. Any animal could be just as effective in half the time."

"I find that to be false through your example."

"And just what is _that_ supposed to mean?!"

"You study less than I do, you're an _dog_, and you have yet to beat me on a test."

"A dog."

"Yes a dog Malfoy. If you were to use just _half_ of the time you spend sleeping around, you might just have a chance at finally beating me."

Draco stared at Hermione with his fierce orbs, trying to decipher her statement.

"Hermione, are you jealous?"

Hermione looked away. "What are you talking about?"

"Are you jealous," he said again.

"You're far too conceited. You'd do well in removing that thought from your mind."

"Answer me," he demanded, taking hold of her face with one hand and turning it to face him. "Does it bother you that I sleep with other girls?"

"I couldn't care less, Malfoy," she said sternly.

He let go, a small smirk on his face. "So every time you hear about my last lay, you don't feel anything, correct?"

Hermione looked away from him. "Correct."

Draco felt his insides turn with…happiness? No. Draco Malfoy doesn't feel happy. Satisfied, yes, but not happy.

It was obvious that Hermione was lying. A stupid Hufflepuff could just walk in and see it. And it gave Draco such an odd feeling…

"Hermione will you go on a date with me?"

Hermione snapped to look at him, absolutely at loss. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Will you go out on a date with me," he restated, somewhat annoyed at having to repeat himself. "Just a date, Granger. I'm not asking for marriage. I'm not even asking for a relationship. Just a date."

"On a date. With you? Are you out of your mind?!"

"Just give me a yes, and get it over with."

She laughed incredulously. "You're unbelievable! Do you have any idea what they'll do to us should we so much as walk out of the castle together without trying to duel each other's heads off?"

"I am perfectly aware."

"No you're perfectly insane, is what you are."

"Probably."

"You don't even deny it?"

"Nope."

Hermione took a deep breath and tried to collect her thoughts, but it was an absolutely hopeless battle.

"Since when do you go on _dates_?" she asked.

"This would be the first time. You would be the first girl I go on a date with."

Hermione almost smiled before she remembered her own first date. "What about the Yule Ball?"

"Oh right. Second—third."

Hermione just looked at him.

"Listen if you don't want to go, all you had to do was say no."

"Where would we go?"

"…Somewhere. Probably…somewhere…"

This time she allowed a small smile. "Draco Malfoy, are you tongue-tied?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Now she was smiling.

"Just what the hell are you grinning about?" he demanded.

She tried to hide it. "I'm sorry."

"Laughing at me, are you?" he challenged angrily.

"No! No I'm not laughing. It's just that…it's all so…odd. Definitely not sudden. I don't know why, but it's not sudden. Just odd."

Draco raised an eyebrow again and crossed his arms. "Yes or no, Granger?"

"Fine."

"Fine—wait, really?" said Draco without thinking. He forced himself to suppress the grin that wanted to crawl onto his face, scowling instead. He ran a hand through his hair.

"We should get back to class," said Hermione, turning red with the growing awareness of what had just happened.

"Right," he said, stepping aside so that she could get off from the desk.

He followed her to the door, opened it for her, and closed it once they were both out.

The awkwardness was so unbelievably thick that Hermione started to feel a bit dizzy.

"Hermione," said Draco from behind her.

Hermione turned around. _Had he been calling her that the whole time?_

"Um…" he was at loss again. So he did what he knew best and kissed her. He did it lightly and swiftly, seeing as they were in an open hallway. "I'll owl soon to let you know, you know, when and where."

Hermione pushed her hair behind her ear and looked at the floor. As much as she wanted to, she wasn't able to utter a sound.

Nothing else to be said, the sort of just looked at each other, and went their separate ways.

There was something they were forgetting that made it unable to celebrate. Something beyond the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry. They could simply hide from that.

No, it was something else.

And while Draco wouldn't remember till the next morning, Hermione was reminded a few minutes later as she bumped into a nervous Ginny.

"Hermione!" she said in relief, hugging her. "Oh my God, you've no idea how much we've all been looking for you."

"I'm fine I've just been—"

"Harry's been sent to McGonnagal's office!"

"Why?"

"Because of the spectacle you two made during lunch! She sent for you as well, but no one could find you. And from what Dean overheard, Harry's taking all the blame and she's taking away his badge!"

"What?! He won't be Quidditch Captain anymore?" asked Hermione terrified.

"Not that one, Hermione. His Headboy badge!"

"WHAT?" yelled Hermione, hand clasping over her mouth.

"Hermione you've _got_ to go in there and _do_ something! Harry's been in trouble before, he can't take another fault on his record."

"But he only kissed me!"

"That's exactly it! He didn't want you to get in trouble so he tried to leave you out of it and it ended up sounding like sexual harrasment!"

"**WHAT?!**"

"Hermione, go to McGonnagal's office and say that you had some part in it! Harry's never going to let you have some blame in it."

Hermione didn't even respond before she bolted away for the office.

* * *

"Mr. Potter, this is far to serious to overlook. What you're telling me is that you single-handedly forcefully kissed Miss Granger in front of everyone."

"Yes."

"And that is the reason for her current disappearance is her embarrassment and her refusal to speak with you, correct?"

"Yes, Professor."

"And that the whole commotion was your doing?"

"That's right."

Professor McGonnagal glared at the young man before her. "**Do** you have any idea of the _seriousness_ of this situation, Mr. Potter? Not only are public displays of affection not allowed, but a _forced_ one is just _beyond_ acceptance!"

A very rushed and anxious set of consecutive knocks interrupted their conversation.

With one last look, the professor rose from her chair to tell whomever it was at the door to return at another time.

"Professor MicGonnagal!"

"Miss Granger? I was told you were—"

"Hermione what're you doing here?!" asked Harry, rising from his chair to see her at the door.

"Professor he didn't harass me in any way! I took part in the kiss, he didn't force me to do anything!"

McGonnagal looked taken aback by the girl's sudden rush and blurting. "Calm down, Miss Granger. Why don't you come inside first?"

"Thank you," said Hermione, entering after McGonnagal turned to return to her chair. As she closed the door, she caught Harry's glare telling her to leave. She glared back.

"Miss Granger take a seat," said McGonnagal sternly. She obeyed.

"I understand that you two were the ones that caused the great disruptance today at lunch."

"Yes," they answered simultaneously.

"But Mr. Potter here tells me that he forced you into this kiss."

"That's not true, Professor. What Harry here's trying to do is to keep me out of trouble—"

"No Professor, she didn't want to do it—"

"Harry!"

"Mr. Potter this will cost you your Headboy—"

"He didn't do anything that extreme, professor. I'm telling you right now that he didn't force me into anything at all."

"Then why were none of my prefects able to find you?"

"Because I was hiding, Professor," answered Hermione. "Harry and I both ran from the crowd and split up once in the school. I was just trying to avoid the questions."

"Professor it's a lie," said Harry. "She didn't even want to look at me—"

"Professor if that were so, why would I deny it?"

"Hermione here just doesn't want to be the one responsible for my—"

"What Harry's trying to do is save me from the awkwardness of—

"—Professor don't listen to her—"

"—Telling you and the rest of the school that—"

"—She doesn't know what—"

"—We're a couple."

"_What?_"

Professor McGonnagal, who was truly having a hard time digesting either argument, closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

Of course she did not want to remove Potter from Headboy position, for a Slytherin would take his place. And having two Gryffindors as Heads reflects well on her house. But measurements had to be taken…did miss Granger just say they were a couple?

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger? Do repeat what you've just said."

Hermione, who was very pale from hearing her own words, looked from Harry to the professor, before repeating again. "Professor we're a couple."

"As in you're dating, correct?"

"Yes, Professor."

McGonnagal looked like she wanted to laugh with relief. "Well for the future, don't be so ashamed of your decisions. If you made a choice, something about it has to be right."

Harry just sat frozen. He could already picture what it was going to be like from there on.

"As for the disturbance today at lunch, a total of 200 points will be removed from Gryffindor."

"Two-hundred?! Professor that leaves us with—"

"Twenty-five points, Mr. Potter. Bad start for so early on in the year. Looks like Gryffindor's going to have to be stars in class, champions on the field, and quiet around Professor Snape."

Hermione would have smiled, but McGonnagal was serious. "Inform your house."

"Yes, Professor," they answered.

"And this will get written up on file. You two will serve detention separately for two weekends with Professor Snape and Mr. Filtch, understood?"

"Yes Professor."

"You may go to class now."

Hermione and Harry both rose from their chairs like scolded children and walked towards the door.

"I'll be sharing the wonderful news with the staff. Surely after such a spectacle this wouldn't be a problem."

"Um actually," began Harry.

"That would be just fine, Professor," said Hermione.

"Very well. Off you go."

Hermione led the way out of the office and towards the stairs.

"Hermione why'd you do _that_ for?"

"You don't' expect me to just let you take all the blame, do you?"

"Now there's going to be hell, Hermione, mark my words."

He began to walk next to her as they climbed the stairs. "You just made our lives impossible to deal with."

"They were impossible to begin with, Harry. And there was going to be hell regardless. Especially after lunch today. It's just going to be hotter, is all."

"Hermione we're going to have to act like a couple now!" he whispered angrily.

"They were going to take away your badge and file you for sexual harassment! Really, what's worse?"

"I guess you're right. But I don't want to hear it later."

"Fine."

"Fine," he replied, leading the way.

"Where're you going? We're supposed to go to class and the way to Herbology's is that way," she said, pointing opposite of where Harry was headed.

"Without any books?" he asked pointedly. "Come on, Ron's got free right now. He should be in the Common Room."

They walked on in silence, unwilling to have any social contact.

And poor Hermione, the predicament she now found herself in. Having to pretend to date her best friend…and actually planning a date with his enemy…

* * *

**A.N:**

**Please forgive me!!!**

I know it's been the longest time since I've updated...almost a year! But really really...I had such a bad case of writer's block...it's not even funny. I have written 6 scenes and simply deleted them from the chapter and started over and over and over again. Hopefully it's been worth it.

I've had a chapter ready for a while...but it wasn't perfect. I know I promised a certain reviewer that I was going to be updating soon, and that had to be about a month ago. I'm soo sorry, reviewer! You've no idea!!

Really really, the only thing that kept me on this story were the reviews. I L-O-V-E- Y-O-U A-L-L

I'm soo soo sorry. Please forgive me!! This story has a plan...and tremendous surprises too. I just needed to get this one as perfect as possible. I tried my best to keep them all in character, and I hope it was seen in the chapter.

Well, there's my pathetic apology...but it's a heartfelt one. I'm sorry again and if you have it in your heart...: **P-L-E-A-S-E R-E-V-I-E-W!!!**


	20. And So Begins the Holidays

**Chapter 20**:

It was a good morning. The sun was nowhere to be found, it had snowed, and the temperature had to be below zero. Yes, concluded Draco Malfoy. It was a good morning.

"It's freezing," complained Blaise. "Who was the idiot that left the window open last night?"

Draco chose to ignore. He was very busy looking at his reflection in the mirror. He couldn't' believe it. Hermione Granger wanted to go on a date with him.

Granger never wanted to do such a thing. He must be really good…

Blaise rose from his bed, marched purposefully to the window and slammed it shut. "Windows should remain closed during the winter."

Of course he was really good. He was amazing. He was perfection in the flesh, an absolute work of the gods. It was no wonder why Granger would want to date him. All girls wanted to date him.

And this just happened to include the smartest witch in Gryffindor, as he liked to remind himself. Oh yes, Draco Malfoy was definitely a skilled young man.

"What's the matter with you this morning? You're looking extra smug."

"I've got reason to be," said Draco, smirking at his reflection.

"What, don't tell me I've already lost the bet."

A punch would have been less painful. He had forgotten about that part. Why he had forgotten, he didn't know. Which was very unlike him, forgetting about a bet.

_I didn't forget. That's the reason why I even started talking to her._

That much was true. The bet did start it all off. Still, he hadn't asked her on a date because of the bet. That scared him.

"Well did you?" asked Blaise, somewhat apprehensive.

"No," replied Draco. "Are you going down for breakfast?"

"Of course."

Draco was in the process of telling Blaise that he'd better hurry up when Crabbe and Goyle came into the room, laughing their heads off.

"What's are you two baboons laughing at?" asked Blaise.

"Oh," began Goyle between laughs. "We just heard from—ouch!"

It had been Crabbe who elbowed him in the ribs to shut up. He looked at Goyle pointedly and nodded furtively towards Draco.

Understanding slowly dawned upon him.

"What are you two hiding?" asked Blaise.

"Um, nothing," said Crabbe. "Right Greg?"

"Right," he mumbled.

"Right my ass," said Blaise. "I'll give you two seconds after this last sentence that I'm saying to tell me what you two heard about."

They shifted, and the two designated seconds passed by.

"Well?" asked Draco curtly.

"Nothing," said Goyle. "Just some stupid rumor about Granger (mumble) and (mumble) dating…"

While Blaise responded with a very annoyed "what?" at not hearing anything, Draco was already out the door and on his way to the Great Hall.

He had heard enough.

There's no way she'd have dared to let it leak out about their date. She wasn't that stupid. She herself had been the one to say what would happen to them should anyone find out.

No, she wouldn't be that dumb. Right?

Draco couldn't help but notice that people were looking at him oddly.

_They knew_.

Well it seemed that he'd have to publicly embarrass her and apologize in private. Yes, that's exactly what he'll do. Command an explanation on these hideous rumors and then move on to explain and apologize later on. She's forgive him. Eventually.

"Draco!"

Draco stopped right before the entrance to the Great Hall and turned around to see Pansy walking his way. He groaned.

"Pansy it's too early."

"Not it's not," she said. "Not for this."

"What?"

"Oh don't give me that, I know you know."

"I don't follow."

"Granger? Don't tell me you've no idea, cause I know you do."

"I obviously don't."

"Well you should seeing as this obviously affects you," she stated, and Draco's greatest fear was confirmed.

"I've no idea what you're talking about," he said, and just like that, made a sharp turn and walked right into the Great Hall.

He focused on walking straight to his table, and sat down quietly. "Morning," said Nott, and it surprised Draco that after what Granger had said, Slytherin was still on speaking terms with him.

And then he noticed it. The great crowd that had circled where Hermione usually sits.

_She's really spreading the word, isn't she? I had no idea she was this challenged…_

"Quite the crowd, eh?" said Nott darkly. "You heard, right?"

"Heard what?" said Draco, deciding to act like he didn't, and strategically lifted up his goblet to his mouth to take a sip. His plan? Spit it out and look shockingly disgusted when answered.

"Granger and Potter are dating now."

That wasn't expected.

Instead of spitting it out, like the planned performance in his head had gone, he choked on the drink, and by nature, some of it _did_ make it's way back into the goblet.

"What?"

Nott shrugged. "Can't say I didn't see it coming. Especially after that display yesterday, what else could anyone expect?"

"What?" Draco repeated, dumbfounded.

"Are you alright, Malfoy?"

"What did you say?"

"Granger and Potter—"

"Is that true?"

"Well they walked in holding hands and what are you doing to that fork?"

Draco looked down at his hand, which he could have sworn had been occupied by the goblet, and saw that he had been bending it out of proportion.

"I'm exercising my wand hand."

"By destroying a fork?"

"Do you have a problem with that?" he challenged.

Nott looked down at his food and mumbled a quick "none at all."

* * *

"Um…_honey_…I'm going to the loo. I'll be right back," said Hermione, and Ron, who was right next to her, snorted. 

Harry glared at Ron, and then looked back at Hermione. "Sure thing…_darling_."

"Oh my goodness you two are so cute! Why didn't this happen before?" said some oddly faced girl in the crowd that had formed to ask them questions, and give unasked-for comments.

"We were, um, in denial?" offered Harry.

"I knew it!"

"Aw! There's nothing cuter than love in denial!"

Hermione just rolled her eyes and left. She needed to. There was no way she could put up with that anymore.

But as she reached the second floor corridor, she was rudely grabbed by the arm and turned around.

"Malfoy."

"Who else?" he asked. He was mad.

"What are you doing here?"

"The real question here is what are you doing dating Pothead?"

"People can see us here," she whispered.

To think he had thought she had leaked about their date.

"Oh like who, your new boyfriend?"

"Oh back off, will you?" said Hermione angrily. He had no idea the terrible morning she's been having. "What, did you follow me here?"

"Answer the damn question, Granger."

"Not until you've answered mine."

"Granger!"

"What? Do you honestly think that Harry and I are dating out of choice?"

"Holding hands would fall into category."

"That's something worthy of a first year!"

"Worthy of a couple, Granger. Did you forget about our little affair?"

"Oh, please, Malfoy. What, are you jealous?"

"Of course not."

"Then you've nothing to worry about."

"I'll be no second person, Granger. Unlike some, I don't like to share."

"Well you'll just have to deal with it."

He fumed. "You expect me to be a side dish, Granger?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Malfoy, what Harry and I have is a mere public thing."

"Do elaborate."

"No. Just know that it's a fake. That's all."

He smirked sadistically. "Selling yourself at such a young age? Now what would your parents say about that, miss Granger?"

"Go to hell."

"Ladies first."

"I'm right behind you."

"Like a dog—"

"About to tear you limb from limb."

"Very much like the savage that you are, you stupid mudblood."

"You'll suffer just the same, you stupid pureblood."

"I love it when you two display house unity."

They both turned to see Blaise, looking sharp as usual, and smirking that sarcastic smirk of his.

"Lovely isn't it?" said Hermione. "Now if you two don't mind, I'll be leaving now."

She gave Draco a pointed look of hatred, which he gladly returned. He couldn't do much more seeing as Blaise was there.

Hermione walked past Zabini, who was delighted in shoving her as she passed by. She pushed him back instantly and kept on walking.

Blaise looked at Draco, and smiled. "Lovely progress, mate. Lovely progress."

It was a terrible morning.

* * *

The Head's common room was dimly lit, the golden tint touching everything in sight. The room was silent, save for a rapid scratching of quills and turning of pages. 

It was the night before Christmas vacation, and Hermione had successfully convinced Harry to attempt completing his homework before the break.

"I can't believe you've got me doing this."

"You'll thank me later."

"Till then I'm in perfect condition to hate your very soul," answered Harry sourly.

"Well that's not very good Christmas cheer now is it?"

"Oh shove it, Hermione. I could be in Gryffindor Common room right now eating my heart out and kissing that—"

"Except that you can't be kissing anyone, because in case you forgot, you're dating me."

Harry scowled.

"Oh hush," said Hermione, though Harry hadn't said a word. "I'm not any more thrilled about it than you are."

"That's because deep down inside, Hermione, you know this was a mistake."

"As pestering and irritating as you are," began Hermione, turning a page of her Ancient Runes textbook. "I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if you had lost your Headboy badge."

Harry was not moved. "How very charitable."

"As was your kiss in front of the whole school that got you into this mess."

"_Our_ kiss, darling," he answered in an overly sweet voice.

Hermione looked up from her homework and looked at him pointedly. "I suggest you leave the fake cheek for the public."

Harry scoffed. "As if no one knows it's all a fake."

"Only our closest friends," replies Hermione. _And Draco_,_ I hope._

She returns to her homework, determined to not look at Harry. Harry takes no notice.

"They know?" he asks, somewhat rhetorically. "That's funny, they certainly don't let on."

"What're you talking about?"

"I don't know about you, but all I hear at Quidditch practice is how they had known since our first year that we were meant for each other."

Hermione laughs. "They're just pulling your leg."

"I've only two."

"Has either fallen off?"

"No."

"Then they can keep pulling."

Harry puts down his quill and looks at her hopelessly. "But they don't really pull, Hermione. They yank."

Hermione laughed at his sorry form. "You poor thing," she says insincerely. "The horrors you face on the field."

"Make fun of me all you want," says Harry, returning to his work. "I'll get my revenge."

"And since when does vengeance replace gratitude?"

Harry laughed. "I'm not thanking you."

"You still sleep in this Common room thanks to me."

"I didn't ask for the rescue," he said sourly. This whole predicament was really getting to him.

"Well I didn't ask for the kiss," she answered back, just as bitter.

Harry snaps to look her way. "This is all your fault. If you hadn't been so damn—"

She interrupts him with the slamming of her quill. "Will you quit your whining already? It's driving me mad, and I'm sure you know that I'm not any more happy about our fake 'dating' than you are."

"I should think you would be, seeing as you were the one to come up with the insane story to begin with."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "To save your arse!"

"It wouldn't need saving if I weren't trying to keep you out of trouble."

"If you weren't unbelievably insane, you mean."

"You should've thanked me, but instead you told McGonnagal that we were a couple, and as a result, made me look like a complete liar!"

"Because you _were_ lying."

"I'm not a liar, Hermione," said Harry, tossing his quill on his homework to cross his arms properly and look at her.

"Oh I believe so," she laughed.

"Well at least I don't trick people into thinking I'm something I'm not."

"I guarantee you," said Hermione sourly. "What you see is what you get."

"I really, truly, highly doubt that," said Harry, with a ghost of a smile.

Hermione raised her eyebrow in question. "Oh?"

Harry let out a full, unsuppressed mischievous smile. Leaning forward on his chair and nearing has face to hers; he asks, "how is it that you learned to kiss so well?"

This was very unexpected.

"What?" laughed Hermione.

He sat back on his chair and gives her that wolfish grin of his. The one she hasn't seen on him for ages now.

"If I do recall, naughty Hermione Granger, the kiss on the grounds was done quite," he paused for the right word, "expertly?" he offered.

"Oh please. You know it was mere act."

Harry pretended to be stung, his hand on his chest and his eyes a mock hurt. "You mean to tell me that that kiss meant nothing to you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and tried to prevent the color change in her face.

Harry stops his act and looks at her intently, still smiling. "Oh my God you're turning red! You're hiding something from me!" he exclaimed, his eyes and his smile growing wide.

"What?" said Hermione, not looking at him. "No I'm not. Stop being so damn rash all the time."

"Hermione Granger, you're going to tell me right this instant who it's been you've been practicing your kissing skills with."

Hermione turns away from him and lifts her quill defiantly, determined to go back to her work.

"Oh no you don't," said Harry, taking away her quill.

Hermione looked at him pointedly and took his quill, lying unprotected on his homework, and began writing again.

He closed the Ancient Runes textbook that she needed to complete her homework, and took the quill.

"Harry," she demanded.

"No," he said. "Not until you tell me."

"Oh will you please—"

"Please nothing," he said, a small, mocking smile remaining. "Who have you been kissing?"

"You as a matter of fact."

"I'm serious," he said.

"Well if you must know—"

"Yes I must."

"It's been Malfoy."

"I thought I said I was serious," said Harry, a bit sourly this time.

Hermione began to smile. "It's not a joke. Just mere mockery is all."

"Alright, I know that little incident was quite dumb—"

"—Stupid."

"_Stupid_ of me. But come on now, who's it been? Has it been Boot?" he finished darkly.

Hermione looked at him pointedly. "And if it has, there's no problem with that, now is there?"

Harry sighed and leaned back on his chair, crossing his arms again. "I don't know Hermione, I don't know. I'm telling you, there's something about that guy…"

"What is it? Has he gotten a girl in France pregnant and not told anyone about it?"

"If he hasn't told anyone about it, how would I know?"

"Oh right," said Hermione.

Harry shakes his head and sits up in his chair. "No, it's nothing like that. It's just, I guess I just don't like him. He's such a fake."

"He is not."

"He's a snob, Hermione."

"Oh stop it, you're just getting over protective again."

"I'd rather you date Seamus or, I don't know someone else."

"Well regardless, I don't believe you have much say in who I date."

"I have some," retorted Harry.

"Perhaps," said Hermione, taking a quill from Harry. "Just as much of a say as I've in yours."

Harry smiled at this. "Clever."

"As usual," perked Hermione.

Harry looks at her closely. "So who is it, Hermione? You can't even come up with Krum, that's just impossible."

"And why not? We did snog, you know."

_Not._

"But not that bloody much!"

Hermione laughed loudly. He actually thought they had!

"There's no way you could have made out enough so that it lasts till seventh year."

"Oh Harry, Harry. Don't you know that I not only learn quickly, but I learn forever?"

Harry wrinkles his nose. "He wasn't even that attractive, Hermione."

"Oh what would you know?" she said, shoving him harshly.

He laughed merrily and, as he shook his head, returned to his homework.

It seemed as if silence had finally settled in the Common room, but Hermione was anxious now. "So I really am a good kisser?"

* * *

"She doesn't like him, trust me," he replied with a smirk. 

"You've obviously not seen the way they've looked at each other. That whole couple story she's got with Potter's a clear fake. That was obvious from the third day of their 'relationship'. You're real threat, my friend, I'd have to say is Boot."

"Give it a rest Blaise," yawned Draco, linking his hands behind his head and he lay on his bed. "Hermione and Boot haven't got anything with each other. I can guarantee you that."

"Hermione?"

"What? If I'm going to make her fall in love with me, I've got to move on from surnames, don't I?" said Draco easily.

"Mate, you've got to move on from the insults," replied Blaise, sitting on his own bed and looking at Draco.

"That's harder than you think, especially since I'm going to date a Gryffindor."

"Well _this_ Gryffindor is a bit different, don't you think?"

"Like hell she is. She shouldn't even fall under our category of what a girl is

Blaise laughed appreciatively.

"Mate you might as well just hand over the money and encyclopedias. With Granger, you've no chance."

Draco smiled.

_Draco smiled._

"You don't know half of it," he laughed.

Blaise looked at him suspiciously. "What's been going on with you lately?"

Draco furrowed his eyebrows. "What d'you mean?"

"I mean that stupid smile you've been carrying around and that…un-malicious laugh you've been having lately."

"Is it so terrible of me to smile and laugh?"

"That's exactly it! It's not terrible of you, and you and terrible go together like cucumbers and cream cheese."

Draco just made himself more comfortable. "I still don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm just starting to think that that Granger chick's starting to change you."

"She's not a chick," he said easily.

"And since when do you defend her!"

"I don't."

"Draco," said Blaise seriously. "If you fall for Granger…if you so much as actually _like _her, Slytherin will never forgive you."

"Slytherin won't have to," he answered darkly. "That will never happen."

"It better not happen," said Blaise, giving him one final staring moment before he finally laid down.

"Where are you going for the holidays?" asked Draco.

"Scotland."

"What's there?"

"Business. What about you?"

"I'm staying here."

"Since when?"

"As of today. There's nothing at home for me to go to," he answered.

Blaise remained silent. He knew better than to bring up Draco's mother.

"So happy holidays I guess," said Draco.

"Happy holidays," answered Blaise.

* * *

"I still don't understand why you're not going to the Burrow." 

"Guys we already went over this."

"It makes no sense, Hermione, it's the holidays! Come home with us, mum would love to have you over," said Ron.

"How kind of you, but really, I can't," answered Hermione. She lifted the heavy bag she had carried with her and gave it to Harry.

"Here. These are the presents. One each of you three, and the rest of the Weasleys."

"Hermione," whined Ginny. "You have to come, what am I going to do in a house full of guys?"

"Bother us," said Ron, earning a smack on the head.

"Thanks for the presents," said Harry, looking at Ron pointedly.

"Oh yea, thanks."

Hermione smiled warmly, clutching her cloak a bit tighter around her. "Just don't open them until Christmas, understood?"

"Sure," said Ginny. "Put them all under the tree as soon as we get home."

Hagrid's voice boomed through the cold air. "Alright, all a ye goin' away get in e' carriage, we'll be leavin' in a minute."

"You can still come," offered Ginny. "You could borrow my clothes and everything."

"Really Hermione, don't be a grinch and come with us."

"I would've loved to, really, but—"

"Hermione as your boyfriend I command that you come to the Burrow for Christmas."

"Oh shut up," said Hermione. "Now go before all the carriages are taken and you'll be forced to split up."

"Fine," they muttered.

Ron gave Hermione a hug, Ginny following. When she finally decided to let go, Harry gave her a quick hug as well and a kiss on the cheek.

"Have fun studying your NEWTS, dork."

She shoved him. "Don't cheat on me with a knome at the Burrow," she retaliated, and Harry gave her a look.

"Ha, ha, ha, very funny."

They made their way to an empty carriage and waved one last time at the Hermione they had known for so long, incapable of knowing that when they returned, everything would be so very different.

* * *

It was dark, probably 7:30 she figured, and she was nervous. 

_Meet me by the Astronomy Tower at 8._

_D. Malfoy_

Not exactly the most romantic letter, but at least it wasn't anonymous. She'd never respond to an anonymous letter again.

"Well, here you go," said Hermione, observing herself in the mirror.

She didn't want to look like she had spent hours getting ready just for this, but she had. Tonight, she had bothered.

A pair of jeans, a beige turtleneck, and a pair of gold earrings was as far as her wardrobe would allow her. But perhaps the most noticeable thing was her hair.

She couldn't deny that it had taken her an hour to do, but she wasn't going to say she had put more effort in it than she had for the Yule Ball.

Hermione Granger had managed to tame her hair in long, graceful curls that reached the middle of her back. It amazed her how feminine she could look if her hair wasn't so out of control all the time.

She put on her cloak, pulled her hair out from under it, and put on a scarf. With one last layer of Chap Stick to protect her from the cold outside, she stepped out of her dorm.

Hermione Granger still did not wear makeup.

* * *

_Of course. Leave it to Granger to show up early for class but to take her dear time when it comes to meeting me._

Draco Malfoy was not happy. He hated waiting, he hated being nervous, and he hated the idea of being stood up.

_I should've told her to write back._

But there was no way that she could stand him up. The obvious reason was that he was Draco Malfoy, and no woman ever stood him up.

He laughed. _Granger's not a woman_.

Yet she was the most boringly mature girl he knew. She was the nerd of the school and wasn't exactly one of the most amazing-looking girls on the grounds either. So why was he so nervous?

8:10pm

Ok, now he was getting upset. Making him wait a whole 10 minutes?

Who did she think she was?

_When she gets here, I'll show her a piece of my mind. I'll do it so that she never dares to be late again._

Partly because he was anxious, and partly because he was cold, Draco started to pace around.

_I'll show her. Making a Malfoy wait…people could die for just that._

"Isn't that a bit of a stretch?"

He spun around to find Hermione standing there, arms crossed, and looking at him pointedly.

_Did I say that out loud?_

He would have responded with something worthy of him, but he couldn't. Though he did try.

"Wh-what are you—how—what do you—why do you—"

"What?"

"You—it's because I—what was the question, again?"

Hermione's eyebrows rose in confusion and disbelief. Then she laughed.

A stuttering Draco Malfoy was the most curious thing! It wasn't sexy, and that made him all the more attractive.

"It's not funny," he said, clenching his jaw even more when she wouldn't stop. "What business have you got sneaking up on me like that?"

Hermione suppressed her laughter and tried to keep a straight face. "None," she replied.

There was a silence where both looked around and at the grass…the tower…the trees. The awkwardness was deafening. They both knew why they were there, and in knowing they couldn't do what they did best: argue.

Draco was dying. Never in his life had he ever been tongue-tied on a date, and much less not have something to talk about. But it would be so weird to compliment her! It was so weird just being here!

But he had to admit, when he saw her…

He made a fool of himself.

In a very passive tone, he said, "I like what you did to your hair."

Hermione's eyes traveled to each side of her at the oddness of the statement. "Thank you."

He smiled at her discomfort, and for once didn't bother to catch himself at it. "How long did it take you?"

He was looking at her oddly. For one, he was wearing a small smile, and his eyes had a small glow, like Hermione was this cute little girl who seriously wanted to become a Princess when she grew up.

"Long enough get the job done," said Hermione, starting to smile herself.

They looked at each other and laughed. He laughed a full-blown grin, and she had a smile so wide it hurt.

Shortly the laughs subsided, but at another glance the pair were at it again.

"Wow this is weird," said Draco, his laughter dying.

Hermione put a lock of hair behind her ear and looked confusingly at the ground. "It is, isn't it? It's like we're both here, we know we shouldn't be, but," she looked at him, "this time it's ok."

"Because no one's here," said Draco, looking right back at her.

_She's beautiful_.

A stinging cold wind blew harshly past them, bringing them back to reality. Hermione clutched her cloak tighter around herself, but Draco remained perfectly motionless.

"It's cold," he said, still staring. "Let's go before we freeze out here."

He offered a small smile and led the way.

* * *

"How was your trip, Mr. Zabini? Everything was to your liking, I hope?" 

"Yes, Walter, thank you. Is Claudius here?"

"In the study. Would you like me to show you to your room first, sir?"

"Yes, please, thank you."

The old, elegant man motioned at a house elf standing by to take the luggage to the room. Obeying immediately, she scurried off to a set of spiral staircases, the luggage: one trunk and two smaller suitcases, floating behind.

"This way please," said Walter, leading Blaise in the direction the house elf had taken.

His room was dull and impersonal with a wooden floor, a wooden desk, one closet and a plain bed by a large window that was currently hidden with red drapes.

Walter lighted a small candle at the nightstand. "Sandy go finish your job in the kitchens, you're done here."

Sandy left.

Walter looked at Blaise somewhat apologetically. "I understand that this is most definitely not the best treatment you've received as a guest, but under the given circumstances—"

"It's fine Walter. This is more than enough, thank you," said Blaise. He had taken a great liking to the old man, whom he had met no more than a year ago.

"The study is upstairs on the opposite wing. Would you like me to take you there?"

"That won't be necessary, unless he needs prior warning to my entry."

"No, of course not. I'll be on my way then. Have a good night Mr. Zabini."

"You, too."

The castle was as any castle is; large. It was easy to get lost, as Blaise found out last year. Located in Scotland, he found it to be one of the most depressing places he had ever housed in.

The country was beautiful, but this castle certainly was not.

He knocked at the door.

"Come in."

Blaise entered. "I figured you might want to see me."

"I figured you'd be the first to come. How's it going, Blaise? Everything's well?"

"If I exclude the fact that my life's being threatened, sure everything's fine."

Claudius laughed. He was around his 50's, and extremely wealthy. He was a plump but tall man with no family. The love of his life was money, and to him no woman could be more valuable.

"Who had you being stupid, eh?"

Blaise took a seat across from him and looked about the study. "I still don't understand why it is that you bought a property in Scotland."

"It's really private, the landscapes are amazing, and the people are really nice."

"You haven't got a single Scottish thing in this castle, and I could hardly imagine you speaking to locals."

"First of all, the castle itself is Scottish, and as for the socialization, I was only bad at it when it came to you."

"Ah, the sweet memories we had," said Blaise sarcastically.

There was a small pause before Claudius continued, this time on a much more serious note.

"I heard they've got their sons in Hogwarts bugging you about it as well."

Blaise laughed. "They had the audacity to call for me and threaten to 'spill the beans' if it wasn't in private."

Claudius furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Who was with you?"

"Draco."

"Did you oblige?"

"Of course I did. He got a bit upset, but I knew those three Ravenclaws and that moronic Hufflepuff weren't going to do a thing. And if they did, of course they're no challenge."

"Always so sure of yourself. The exact thing that got you into this blunder."

"I'm not worried."

"Bullocks you're worried as hell."

Blaise looked at Claudius. "It's not easy having your reputation trashed like this."

"Are you referring to the downfall of the Zabini name?"

"You're so discrete."

Silence.

"When will you have the money?" asked Claudius, somewhat concerned.

"You gave me till the end of this year. I'll have it by then."

"You do understand that if you don't, they could take your house and everything else you own?"

Blaise clenched his jaw. "It's been made clear to me."

"So long as you understand. I'm only part of the compromise, Blaise, not the problem. I helped you bargain for that year and a half, but I'm positive they won't go for any more. I don't understand why you don't just borrow money from Draco Malfoy—"

"And have him see just how pathetic my name has sunk since _his_ father ratted on mine?"

"Then how do you plan on getting the money?"

Blaise smirked at the irony of his next sentence. "A bet."

"Are you joking?" he asked furiously. Blaise just laughed.

"You mean to tell me, Blaise Zabini, that you plan on getting out of a gambling problem by gambling?!"

"Relax Claudius, this is a different sort of bet. I'm not betting on cards or dice. I'm betting on young Mr. Malfoy."

Claudius' eyes widened a bit. "You wouldn't dare—"

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Not like that. I made a bet with him. If he got the biggest prude in Hogwarts to sleep with him, I'd give him 3,000 galleons and—"

"You haven't got 3,000 galleons."

"I've got half," Blaise defended.

"And you think that'll be enough for Malfoy? When he wins this bet—"

"He's not going to win, so it doesn't even matter."

"Even if you were to win, Blaise, 3,000 is but 10 percent of what you've got to pay them."

"I'm sure I could make up the rest of it if I give them the Malfoy's encyclopedia set of the Dark Arts."

Claudius' jaw almost dropped. "But the Malfoys would never give that up."

Blaise smirked at him. "Funny what pride can do."

Claudius rose from his chair and began to pace the room in thought, ending up behind Blaise. "I don't understand. Why don't you just give them yours?"

Blaise turned to him, an incredulous look on his face. "Why would I do that?!"

"Why would you give them the Malfoy's? They're not interested in the Dark Arts, they're interested in getting the money you owe them. They're not Death Eaters Blaise, they're gamblers."

"And they work for the Ministry," said Blaise pointedly, turning around again so that his back was to Claudius once more. "They'd like to have this against Lucius Malfoy."

"They'd like to have it against Draco Malfoy," said Claudius, walking back around his desk. "They've already got Lucius in Azkaban, you'd be incriminating your own friend."

"That's not true, you know I'd never do that. Not to Draco."

"I'd hope you'd treat your best mate better than that."

"Listen, if they won't use it for 'good' like all those blokes in the Ministry love to do, they could just as easily sell it in the black market and become just as rich, if not more, than what I owe them. Either way, they're gaining."

Claudius considered, and slowly took his seat. "And if you loose?"

"I won't."

"Draco Malfoy's quite the handsome young man."

"You don't know Hermione Granger," said Blaise.

Claudius shook his head in doubt. "I believe that kid could get anything."

"She's a prude," said Blaise dismissively.

"Every girl is at first."

Blaise chuckled. "You don't understand. They've been enemies since their first year at Hogwarts."

Blaise sighed at Claudius' unconvinced face, and stated the sentence that would change it and give complete understanding.

"She's Harry Potter's best friend."

* * *

"Why is it that you're always doing well in school? I never really understood that." 

They were walking through a desolate street in the rural whisks of Hogsmeade. The only source of light they had came from within the houses, giving off a warm glow in the very cold weather.

"What's wrong with doing well in school?"

"Nothing's wrong with it," said Draco. "It's just that you've always got to be the best at it. At everything, mind you."

Hermione laughed. "I beg to differ."

"You can't," reasoned Draco. "No matter how you look at it, you can't deny that you have to be the best at every subject. Every book flown your way you have to catch."

Both Hermione's eyes and smile widened. "Excuse you! 'Every book flown my way', is there anything you can say to make me sound more anti-social?"

"Sure I can. You're on a date with me."

"Well at least you're admitting to the sacrifice I'm making."

"Shut up," laughed Draco, and after a moment's silence added "Book-Catcher."

"You—"

Draco turned in front of her so that he was walking backwards. "How is it that you manage?" he interrupted.

"Manage?" laughed Hermione. "Look who's talking."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"You're not that far from my grades to begin with, and I hear about your hobbies."

He really laughed at this one. "My hobbies?"

Hermione smiled enchantingly. "The question here, Draco Malfoy, is how do _you_ manage to get such good grades in all of your classes and still find time to annihilating the entire female population in Hogwarts."

"I do not annihilate them, that sounds like murder."

"You have to have had a fling with over 50 percent of the girls at our school."

"I beg to really differ. Fifty percent would include little first years, and I am not a child molester."

"Oh please. I bet all of them have crushes on you."

"That's inevitable."

"And through it all you remain so modest," said Hermione.

Draco stopped, forcing Hermione to stop, and listened quietly.

"What?" asked Hermione.

He let out a grin. "We're the only noise in this place."

Suddenly Hermione became conscious of the quiet, and also let out a grin. "So now all of Hogsmeade knows that we're on a date."

There was a silence in which both looked at each other, still smiling.

"I don't know about you, but I really don't care," said Draco, looking as if he couldn't believe it himself.

Hermione's smiled dimmed into thought. "What is it about tonight that we're so carefree?"

"I don't know. I'm still sort of expecting you to lash out at me and scratch my eyes out."

"You haven't given me a reason to yet."

"So you're expecting me to give you a reason?"

"Pretty much," she smiled.

He huffed. "As if you need one."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You'd be perfectly fine in scratching my eyes with or without cause and you know it."

"Oh, please," began Hermione, but he interrupted her.

"Don't you even try and deny it!"

Hermione walked past Draco and they began walking again. "There isn't a single time in which I started something with you, Draco. You always had some brilliant insult to say."

"And you didn't?"

"Only after you started."

Draco considered. "You really shouldn't be complaining. It was our only form of communication. Without it we wouldn't be here."

Hermione laughed appreciatively. There was a comfortable silence in which all that could be heard were their footsteps.

"You know, tonight was different from what I thought it would be," said Hermione, looking strictly at the floor.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" he inquired, not looking at her but looking straight ahead.

"It's a good thing," said Hermione. "A very good thing."

Draco looked at her. "Why what did you have in mind?"

She shrugged. "I guess I thought you might take me to someplace where you can discretely rub your money into my face."

"Like?"

"I don't know. Like some fancy restaurant or some lounge where only the _elite_ go."

Draco gulped silently. He _had_ planned on taking her to a place like that. All girls previous to Hermione had liked being taken there, but something made him change his mind. Something made him take her to an ice-cream parlor instead, where they both discovered their passion for the desert, and afterwards had a good laugh at eating something cold in the winter.

"You don't like fancy restaurants?"

"It's not that I have anything against them, but it would be so weird to sit there and not know what to order, or how to eat it. This," said Hermione, looking at the scene around her, "is much more laid-back."

They came to a slow halt and faced each other, the cold wind breezing past.

"We should probably start heading back," said Hermione.

"Yeah," said Draco absently. He seemed to be considering something inside his head. "Wait, I want to show you something."

"What?"

"It's not too far from here, do you mind getting back a bit late?"

Hermione looked at him skeptically. "Where exactly do you plan on taking me?"

"Do you mind or not?" asked Draco. Some things never change.

"I guess not—"

"Perfect," smiled Draco. "Let's go."

* * *

Hermione figured that by the time they had finally gotten to whatever he had called this place, a good hour had passed by. 

In that hour, they each had managed to draw up perfect arguments about who's House was better. All this, somehow, successfully executed without bringing up any serious rivalry or, even more amazing, their friends.

It was a bit unconsciously done, and Hermione just couldn't seem to explain either change in character.

For one, he was nice. And two, so was she. Three? They were openly together, on a date, and incapable of getting upset. It was a spell, Hermione was sure of it.

Except that no one but themselves knew of this whole affair, and she didn't even think that such a spell existed. Was it possible that this was perhaps his "true side" like it always happens in the romance novels she reads?

Most definitely not. She, herself was not acting accordingly, but what else was expected? They had already gone through the banter and the chasing and the pretend-not-to-like-but-still-kiss stage.

Was there really no hostility left between them? Was it possible that their relationship had changed forever?

She looked at Draco and remembered their last argument. They had been relentless.

_No, _she thought sadly. _Everything will go back to the way it's supposed to be when everyone comes back._

Draco caught her eye, and for some reason, she knew he was thinking along the same lines…

Might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

* * *

**AN: How was it? I know, a bit short, but much sooner, no? ANYTHING FOR MY REVIEWERS!!**

**So from here on it'll be a small tying of all loose ends, and YOU'VE NO IDEA WHAT I'VE GOT IN STORE FOR YOU GUYS!!!**

**Ok. Sorry in advance for anyone who did not enjoy the chapter, for its shortness, for taking moderately long and not telling you where he took her. NEXT CHAPTER.**

**Ok, PLEASE, and constructive criticism is welcomed. Thank you.**

**(And of course, it's tradition:) P-L-E-A-S-E R-E-V-I-E-W**


	21. Problems Owling and the Revealing Kiss

**Chapter 21:**

"Here we are," said Draco, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

Hermione looked at the sight before her. There, in what seemed like the middle of absolutely nowhere, stood an old, rickety, broken-down house. There was a small, dirty dented fence, and the small lawn it surrounded couldn't seem more dead if there had been a century's long drought.

Hermione noticed that it seemed that the villagers had used this…yard if you will…as a dumpster. Toys, wooden planks, carriage wheels, you name it. She couldn't help but wonder why Draco had brought her there.

"Come on, let's go inside," said Draco, and pushed open the squeaking gate.

"Inside? As in, in _there_?"

"You don't want to?" he asked.

"Is it allowed?"

He grinned. "Of course," he said, and Hermione couldn't help but smile herself. Who knew that Draco Malfoy had a contagious smile?

He turned and walked down the path of what Hermione guessed was once a beautiful stoned path. Now, however, some stones were missing, and others were cracked. The door to the house was just as squeaky, but Draco didn't seem to mind.

"Are we still in Hogsmeade?" asked Hermione.

"Barely," said Draco. "But yeah, you could say that we are."

Inside the house was not much better than outside. Dust and darkness overwhelmed their entrance, and from what she could see, it looked as if no one had lived there for a good amount of time.

"I take it it's abandoned?" asked Hermione.

"Your intelligence amazes me," said Draco amusingly. "_Lumos_."

"_Lumos_," repeated Hermione, lighting up her own wand.

"Follow me," said Draco, leading her up some old, wooden stairs that squeaked louder than the gate and the door combined.

"Where are you taking me?" asked Hermione.

"Nowhere special. Just my room," he finished.

"Excuse me?" she demanded, stopping halfway up the stairs to look at Draco.

He smiled. "Could you relax? Really, I'm not going to try anything foolish."

"You so much as suggesting it is foolish."

"Who said I was suggesting anything? I just said I was taking you nowhere special."

"And this unspecial place just so happens to be your room, correct?"

He smiled for the millionth time.

"Well you're insane if you think I'm about to accompany you there."

"In that case," said Draco. "I'll just call it something else."

"Hardly suitable," said Hermione, walking up the rest of the stairs to meet him.

"How's about you just trust me, for once."

She looked at him skeptically, and he sighed. "Hermione, I probably wouldn't even attempt to do this on any other night."

She understood him. Tonight, undoubtedly, was different from every other night. Whatever happened tonight, would never happen any other night. She was sure of it. He was sure of it. It held a sort of air that made you do things you thought you'd never do. Like have a good time with your enemy.

Draco didn't know if he would turn back to the git he was when the vacation was over, or if it would happen as soon as tomorrow. And, for some damned reason, he wanted to show her this one thing. He knew he'd never do it when he returned to being, well, himself.

"Okay," she heard him say, and he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in.

He moved past her and began walking down a dark hall. The house did not seem magical to Hermione at all, which evidently incited a curiosity as to how he had come upon this house.

He pushed open the door to a room and walked in. Hermione followed, and upon entering, couldn't help the small smile that crept onto her face.

"_This_ is your room, Draco Malfoy?"

Indeed there was a small bed, one fit for a ten year old though not for its size, but for its bed coverings: a matching quilt and pillowcase with small cars plastered all over them.

There was a plain desk at a dark corner of the room, lacking both a chair and a book. But, what had amazed Hermione the most was the great window opposite of her. It was so wide and long, it could have been a door.

"No it's not my real room," he said. "That one's much more…rich."

Hermione laughed. "I would assume as much."

"But I've spent so many of my summers here, I call it my room."

"You spend your summers here? Why do I find that hard to believe?"

Draco gave her a playful look and walked to the window, which looked over the entrance of the house. "It was Blaise who spotted it first."

"Oh?"

"Yep. Of course, he figured some miserable and harmless old lady lived here, and thought we shouldn't pass up the opportunity to harass her."

Hermione gave him another look, in which he received and just as easily shrugged it off.

"Did you two ever harass the old lady?"

He let out a laugh at the memory. "No," he said. "Too scared."

She raised her eyebrow at this. "Scared? Malfoy and Zabini? I can hardly fathom such a possibility."

"Give us credit we were little."

"How little?"

"I'd say about eight or nine."

"Wow you two've known each other that long?"

Draco furrowed his eyebrows. "Blaise and I've known each other for as long as I could remember."

Hermione tilted her head at Draco a little, but he turned to look back out the window. "We were always bad."

"Now that I believe," she laughed.

Draco smiled at her, and decided to sit on the floor. He patted the spot next to him, and a few seconds later Hermione was sitting there.

"So what, you two never came in here?"

"No we did—well I did."

"How very brave of you," she mocked. He shoved her playfully. "Hardly," he said.

"Why, what happened?"

"Well we were bored, and both of our parents had gone somewhere. I don't really remember where, or how it was that we got out of supervision, but we did. We came to Hogsmeade, Zonko's of course, and did something stupid. I think we were _stealing_ from Zonko's. Either way, we were being chased, and by God we were running for our dear lives."

"And you guys came here?" guessed Hermione. Draco shook his head.

"No. Somewhere in the rush of Hogsmeade we lost each other, and he ended up hiding in the Shrieking Shack. _I_ came here."

"Did they find you?"

"No. But the stupid villagers said they saw me running in this direction, so they eventually ended up looking for me in here."

"Didn't any of you think that someone could possibly inhabit this place?"

Draco gave her a look that clearly stated the thought had never crossed his mind. Who _would_ want to live in this place? "No, I guess not."

"Someone obviously did," stated Hermione, pointedly looking at the furniture around the room. "How long had it been before they came in here?"

Draco looked at her, and couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked under the light emanating through the window. Her hair looked really nice.

"Hours," he said. "I guess I was lucky it was already abandoned by then."

"Were you sure of it before you barged in?"

Draco opened his mouth in what looked like would have been an affirmative answer, but closed it as he considered her question. "No I guess I wasn't. But I mean," he reasoned, "everything was as much of a junkyard then as it is today. Even then there was no sign of life other than old furniture. I was actually disgusted, to be honest. Everything was so dusty and dirty. _But_, I did need somewhere to hide, so I really couldn't be picky.

"So why is it that you liked this room? Quite obviously you didn't like anything else."

He smiled. "I liked the fact that everything was so small."

"Small?"

"I'm used to huge and expensive things. Things that could satisfy both child and adult. But here," he said, looking around. "It looked as if it were meant for me. Everything was _my_ size in this room. The bed could only fit a boy my size, the desk wasn't big enough for any sort of adult, and the chair that was once there would break if anyone bigger than me was to sit on it."

"I take it you sat on that chair as you got older?" asked Hermione.

"Clever witch."

He got up and extended his hand out to Hermione. She took it without hesitation, and was quickly on her feet. Draco turned around and walked to a closet Hermione hadn't noticed before, and opened it.

"Come here," he said. She complied.

The closet was nothing out of the ordinary, from what she could see. It was fairly small, and reminded her of her own closet at home.

"This amazed me the most. I thought that this closet was definitely made just for me."

"I take it you hid here when you saw them coming?" tested Hermione.

"Sort of, but not really," said Draco, an odd look on his face. He then walked into the closet a bit, bending over, and lifting what Hermione could only call a secret door.

"Go in," he said. "I think you'll like what you see."

Hermione gave him one last glance before carefully sitting on the floor next to the opening and getting a firm stand on the latter. She descended the, in Hermione's opinion remarkably long way down and Draco soon followed suit.

Hermione heard the door flop shut somewhere above and heard Draco rustle around. Soon, the whole room was full of a yellow glow of light, and Hermione's breath immediately hitched in her throat.

"Oh my…"

"I knew you'd like it."

Anyone who attended Hogwarts would know she'd like it. Underneath the closet was a much greater room, but it wasn't just any room. No, it was a library.

Hermione turned to Draco. The yellow glow really complimented his everything. His facial features, his fair skin, his blonde hair…

"Hermione Granger, I do believe you're staring," he mocked.

Hermione turned a light shade of pink. "You wish," she muttered, and quickly looked for another topic.

"So you hid down here while they searched up there?" asked Hermione.

"Your intelligence once again amazes me."

Hermione gave him a scrutinizing look. "And here I thought it was Zabini who had the smart mouth."

There was comfortable silence as Hermione began to take a look at the variety of books. One Hundred Years of Solitude, Jane Eyre, The Outsiders, the list was endless. These people had definitely been muggles, and Hermione couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness at realizing that she'd never know their story, or why they seemed to have left without any of their belongings.

Hermione turned to Draco, who had been looking at her the whole time. "Did they ever find you?"

"No," said Draco, and a somber look overtook his features. "That's why I brought you here."

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean?

He looked away from her for a moment, not sure of what he was going to say. "Hermione, I've been thinking, you know, about our situation."

Hermione's heart wrenched. Why? Why was he thinking about their…_situation_. It was so unnecessary, especially tonight! Wasn't this the night where they forgot about absolutely everything and realized they were meant for each other?

Hermione swallowed. Was that what she expected out of tonight? She certainly didn't know that she expected that, and that would most definitely not fit…seeing as she didn't expect much from anybody else other than herself. She couldn't quite place it, but something in his tone had made it seem as if he wanted to cut off all relations with her. It sounded like a break-up, and the agony it brought came with an even greater feeling of uneasiness.

_We aren't even together,_ Hermione scolded herself.

"And?" she managed to ask. Something told Hermione that this had crossed his mind before. He approached her slowly, never really losing eye contact with her, and stopped shortly before her. He wasn't too close, but he was definitely at hand's reach.

"And it's a dangerous one," said Draco.

"Dangerous?" questioned Hermione, though she knew exactly what he was saying.

"Hermione, it's a bit obvious that—well—" why was this so hard to say? Even on this night, it was a problem saying this.

"Well what?"

"That there'll be problems should anyone find out," he said. He would most definitely not tell her that he had _stronger feelings_ for her than he'd had for any other girl to date. Sure the night was special, but not even the night could change him that much.

"I know _that_," said Hermione in a low tone. "Our relationship, whichever that may be, will not exactly be welcomed."

"You could say that again," he whispered, not looking at her. "Not to mention my house will not hesitate at beheading me for treachery."

She gave him a small smile. She obviously thought he was kidding. How naïve.

"So you think we're risking death if we so much as become friends."

"This isn't funny," he said calmly, looking at her intently. "I'm actually serious."

"Draco—" she began, but he cut her off with something he never, not even in his wildest, non-sensical dreams thought he'd ever say. "I don't want something to happen to you." It had slipped out and upon hearing himself, grew somewhat disgusted.

_I sound…noble…._

"What do you mean?"

Draco decided not to answer her. It was bad enough what he had already said, and now she wanted him to elaborate? Were girls ever satisfied?

"You think I'm in danger?" whispered Hermione, as if someone was capable of eavesdropping on their conversation.

The sentence in itself brought Draco back to his unwanted worries. When had he started worrying for a girl? When had he so much as cared for one? Why was he asking himself these questions? Was he already turning back into his horrid self?! But one look at her changed everything. She, with her big brown eyes, curiously peering at him in subtle anxiety, made his heart lurch painfully at his ribcage. He figured he should answer her. Well, he would, if only she stopped distracting him with those big brown eyes! If only she would just look away for _one_ second…

No, he wouldn't be able to say anything to her. She was not looking away. And regardless, he had already answered the question, right? Of course he thought she was in some sort of trouble, he didn't even know why she asked. _Everyone_ thought she was in trouble. She hung out with Potter, didn't she?

_Focus, Draco, Focus!_

"What, do you think I'm going to die or something?!"

Well that did the trick. A sudden dread came along with that statement, and it was hard to answer her. Instead, he pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, though not how one would expect a Romeo to. His eyes were not full of love and desire, but of apprehension and loss.

"Hermione," he said in a low voice. "Should you ever find yourself in danger, in any sort of threat…just…come here."

"Here?" asked Hermione. "But—"

"Promise me," he said, or better yet demanded.

"Draco, I don't—"

"Hermione I'm serious. Promise me this, and I promise you'll be safe."

Hermione looked at him, a bit afraid of what he was asking her. It was one thing to talk about battle, and it was one thing to prepare for it.

Hermione's eyes widened. _Battle_.

"Draco, are you're talking about…about…the Death Eaters?" she breathed. "Is there something you know about that I don't? That Dumbledore doesn't?"

"I wasn't exactly talking about that," he said, though he had noticeably stiffened. "And as if there's anything to know."

"What do you mean?"

"These people just decide to do things, and it usually results in something stupid," he said bitterly.

Hermione would have become suspicious at this point. The way he had said it, it had seemed as if he were disappointed in the outcome of recent events. But she knew better. She was there the night he found out his mother died. But regardless, Hermione was not a girl to make a promise and break it. She knew about their idea of revenge, she knew about the letters Harry had been receiving. There's no way she'd ever let Harry fight alone. She'd never do that to him. _Ever._

"Draco, there's no way I can make you this promise. Harry's—"

"I'm not asking you to abandon him," he said stiffly. "Just don't be stupid," Draco looked at the closest bookshelf, "like that night at the Quidditch Gold cup."

He couldn't lie and say that he had cared about her well being at the time, but at this very moment the memory struck a nerve.

"Draco I was fine that night. Everything turned out just fine."

"You almost died that night, you do know that, right?" He wasn't going to make a big deal out of it. He wasn't going to _yell_ at her and ruin the night. He was just going to simply _remind_ her of what could have happened to her, if she had not been rescued.

Hermione looked at him furtively. Something about him worrying about her, even if it was stiff and suppressed, made the butterflies in her stomach flutter ever so lightly.

"What were you doing there, anyway?" she asked, on a much lighter mood.

Draco gave her a half smirk, half smile. "Community service."

Hermione gave him a look. "Community service in the middle of a Death Eater attack during the Gold Cup? How likely."

He rolled his eyes and smiled. "I was an intern at St. Mungo's over the summer." He seemed really uncomfortable about this. "I'm studying to be a healer."

Hermione's jaw dropped and eyes widened. "What?!"

He grinned. "What do you mean, what?"

Hermione couldn't help it. "You do know that healers are absolutely unselfish and caring beings who help others out of illness, right?"

"Oh I see where this is going."

"No! It's just that, well, I've always pictured you in the Ministry or in some sort of big business. _Never_, and I mean never, did I have a clue that you were interested in being a healer."

"Well you're sort of right," said Draco. "I'm sort of looking to create a chain of hospitals and supervise them all."

Hermione was still amazed. "That's still healer-related," she reasoned. (And somewhere in the back of her head it registered that Terry also wanted to be a healer.)

"So you were at an internship?" she asked excitedly.

"Yep. I had a week's vacation and you bet I was going to use it for the Gold cup." He shrugged as he knew Hermione had pieced the rest of the puzzle. "I was there, they summoned me to help, and that was that."

"And you helped me recover," she said, looking at him closely with a ghost of a smile.

"Yeah, well, I had to." He silenced a bit, before adding, "so you promise?"

Hermione looked at Draco, who looked at her right back. She smiled at the fact that he was so changed at that very moment, even from the Draco who had asked her on a date. Five months ago, this very person who was now desperate to protect her would've killed her himself were he guaranteed no consequences.

"Okay," she whispered. "I promise."

He gave her a small smile. "You better."

* * *

"Who's it from?" asked Ron, trying to look over Harry's shoulder.

"Parvati."

"_Patil_?" asked Ron, ceasing his attempt to look over Harry's shoulder and standing rooted to his spot. "What's she doing owling you?"

"I never knew she couldn't."

"I never knew she'd _want_ to."

Harry sat down at Ron's desk and took out a new piece of parchment from his book bag under it. Ron sat down on his bed and looked at Harry oddly.

"What business have you got with her?"

"Absolutely none," he responded. "We're just, you know, talking. As friends."

Ron snorted. "And Hermione and I are going to get married in a week."

Harry would have said something just as witty right back at Ron, but at the mention of Hermione his thoughts trailed elsewhere. "Speaking of which, don't you think it's odd she hasn't owled us yet?"

Ron seemed to consider this. "It's only been three days since we've left. She's probably been studying for NEWTS. You know how she is."

"No, she would have definitely owled us by now. Do you think something happened to her?"

"What like a nervous breakdown due to her study habits?"

"Ron, you're not funny."

Ron rolled his eyes, looking terribly bored. "Dumbledore would have told us by now, Harry."

"Still," he said, turning back to the empty parchment in front of him. "It's a bit odd."

Ron leaned against his headboard and made a face. "Oh Lord, Harry."

"What?"

"I swear sometimes you two really do act like a couple."

"Because I'm wondering why she hasn't owled us yet?"

"No, because you're _fretting_."

"I am not _fretting_, Ron."

"Nothing could happen to her in Hogwarts. No one's even there besides the professors."

"That's a lie," said Ginny, entering Ron's room without warning.

"Get out," he said simply.

"If you didn't want any visitors I suggest you close your door," said Ginny, turning to leave.

"Wait," said Harry. "Who else stayed at Hogwarts for the holidays?"

"I think about two or three others stayed. I'm not really sure, but I know Malfoy was definitely one of them." She gave them a pointed look. "So if you think there's nothing threatening at Hogwarts this vacation, think again."

Ron looked at Harry. "Write to Hermione. Now."

But Harry was prevented from writing to either Hermione or Parvati as Mrs. Weasley shouted that lunch was ready from the kitchen.

Ginny looked at Harry. "Looks like you'll have to do it later, mate. You know how my mum gets when her food is eaten cold."

Harry looked at Ron warily. There was a time when he had worried about Malfoy, but looking back he realized that it had been a waste of energy. Hermione would never do something so stupid. Still, he could have done something to her, just for the kick he'd get out of it.

"I'll write to her after we eat," he told Ron, who had serious look on his face. "I don't fancy your mother getting angry with us."

He relented. "Yeah. I suppose you're right. Hermione being tortured by Malfoy's not nearly as scary as my screaming mother."

Sad thing was, he was serious.

* * *

The day was a perfect light gray; no dark clouds, no sun. The castle was sprinkled with a perfect coat of undisturbed white snow. It was peaceful, Hogwarts. Quiet, content, and free of screaming children. And all this was true, until two figures burst from the castle, a certain blonde in front of a certain brunette, running onto the fields. So much for the undisturbed snow.

"This isn't funny!" shouted Hermione, hands on knees and panting. She was never really the athletic type.

"Oh contraire," shouted Draco quite easily, something that really hit Hermione's nerve. "I find this to be absolutely amusing."

"Draco, give me my wand!"

He laughed. "No."

"Come on, this isn't fair. I'm not half as fit as you are. You play quidditch for crying out loud!"

He laughed again, and though that generally caused her heart to skip a beat, it was now impossible to create that effect. Her heart was pounding one thousand times quicker than it should be, it couldn't possibly be bothered to skip anything.

Draco began to walk towards her, tired of shouting, and a ghost of a smile across his face. "Come on, Hermione, it can't be that bad. We only ran from the Great Hall to here."

Hermione stood up straight, and let her hands lie on her hips instead. "You say that like the Great Hall was just one corridor away."

He grinned. "It was two."

"Shut up," she said frustrated. "And wipe that smile off your face. It's not right to take pleasure in the weaknesses of others."

"Can you blame me? It's not often someone finds a weakness in the all-around perfect Hermione Granger."

Hermione pursed her lips and huffed. Well, thank you for rubbing it in, Draco Malfoy. Of course, no need to be _delicate_ about the situation. Men.

"Can I get my wand now?" she asked, looking right at his brilliant eyes.

"If you can reach it," he said somewhat smugly. He raised her wand above his head, and watched with amusement as significantly shorter Hermione Granger jumped to reach it.

"Malfoy," she said darkly. "This is both ridiculous and humiliating. (Jump) Could you please act your age and (jump) hand me my (jump) blasted (jump) wand!"

He laughed at her, and even dared to lower it a little bit, only to raise it when she reached for it. What a tease.

"Draco Malfoy, how old are you?!" she asked incredulously.

"I don't think it's my age that's giving you problems. I think it's your height."

"Or yours," she said, before she shoved him as hard as she could.

He took a step back and laughed, because she had really, really tried. "Is that the best you've got?"

Hermione decided not to take the bait. She was not five, and unlike the boy in front of her, wasn't going to act like it. She was seventeen, for heaven's sake! She was a dignified young woman who most definitely was not going to succumb to immature ways.

"You sodding, good-for-nothing git! Give me back my wand!"

Well.

"I don't think so," he said decisively. "In fact, I believe I'll be keeping this till further notice."

"And since when do you have the power to give _further notice_?"

"Since you're an absolutely terrible runner and you can't catch me," he said, abruptly turning around to run.

"Draco!" she yelled after him.

He looked back over his shoulder, "If you want it, come and get it!"

"Oh you are _so_ not amusing," she murmured to herself, picking up her soaked robes and running after him.

* * *

"Harry do you want a third serving?"

"No Mrs. Weasley, really I'm fine."

"Oh come on, dear don't be shy. There's plenty to go around."

Harry looked wearily as Ron's mother piled yet another full serving onto his plate. Some cynical and evil part of him wanted to throw the plate against the wall and ask her if she understood what 'no' meant. Really, he knew he looked as satiated as he felt, but one look at her and one whiff of the food was all he needed to push away the unnecessary cruelty from his mind and dig in.

"Harry there's been something I've been meaning to talk to you about," said Mr. Weasley, sending a furtive glance at Ron.

_Oi_, thought Harry. He was pretty sure he knew where this was going.

"Yeah?" asked Harry. "About what?"

"Just minor things, minor things. I'll talk to you about it after dinner, if you have time."

"Sure," said Harry, and glared at Ron as secretly as possible.

Harry was almost done with his third helping when Molly Weasley dared to offer him yet another one. He declined as politely as possible, and she was about to put some food on his plate regardless were it not because of Ginny, who pointed out that Harry looked so full he could explode. Not exactly the best feeling, Harry noted, to be fed so much someone at the table had to call you fat to save you from another helping.

"Well I suppose he's had enough," relented Mrs. Weasley. She looked at Harry, and he was able to see a flash of worry pass through her face, before she quickly turned and walked away with her empty plate.

Harry looked around the Weasley table and noted that _everyone_ was giving him odd looks. What the hell, had he not defeated Voldemort last year?

"If you don't mind me asking, why is everyone looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" asked Ginny, who at the moment was not looking at him at all.

"Nevermind," muttered Harry, and got up with his own empty plate and began to walk into the kitchen.

"Hold on there, Harry, I'd like to have that word with you now," said Mr. Weasley, getting up as well.

They set their plates inside the sink, and Mrs. Weasley found some fumbling excuse to get out.

I swear, if they tell me that Voldemort really didn't die I'll fulfill the prophecy by killing me myself.

"Harry," said Arthur dully. "Ron told me about the letters you've been receiving—"

"He did, did he?" snapped Harry. He hadn't meant to. Okay maybe a little, but still. What business did Ron have telling anyone, or what business did anyone have at addressing him about it?

"Yes," responded Arthur. "Harry I wanted you to know that—"

"It's nothing to worry about, Mr. Weasley. They're just letters, nothing more, nothing less."

"Harry they're letters from Death Eaters."

"As they have so kindly signed," said Harry. Again, he didn't mean to.

"Harry you have my full support in this, you know that. My whole family supports you—"

"So I'm guessing that's why everyone's been looking at me weirdly during lunch," stated Harry, and Arthur gave him a small smile.

"We worry about you, Harry. Please understand, don't get upset. We all know you could very well defend yourself, but none of us think it's fair that after everything you've still got to deal with these sort of things."

Harry looked at the scrubbing sponges, washing the plates all on their own. "I just want to know where they're coming from, and how."

"Worry not, Harry that's exactly what I've been looking into since Ron's told me,"

Arthur finished tiredly. "So far no real leads, but we'll get them Harry. For all we know they're just pranksters."

"Yeah," said Harry, looking at the man before him. "Right."

Arthur Weasley looked at Harry and furrowed his eyebrows. "Is there something else bothering you, Harry? You know you could always talk to any of us, we'd be more than happy to help."

Harry, for the first time during the whole conversation, eased down and nodded, indicating that everything was just fine. "I'm just going to go upstairs now. I've got to owl someone, and it's a bit urgent."

The middle-aged man gave him a small smile before also nodding, though his nod indicated that Harry was excused.

"Take it easy, Harry" he said.

"You too, Mr. Weasley."

_Stupid Ron,_ thought Harry darkly, and as he exited into the dining room, glared at Ron. Guiltily the redhead looked away, shoving more food into his mouth. That was his way of avoiding things, concluded Harry, by shoving edible material into his mouth. God how Harry hoped he would choke on that blasted potato he was so keen on propelling down his throat.

Harry walked right back up the stairs and continued until he was once again seated before an empty piece of parchment and Parvati's letter in Ron's room.

He sighed. Hermione or Parvati. Parvati or Hermione. Why was life so determined in providing him with difficult situations? And why was it that Hermione hadn't written to him yet? Didn't she want to know if they had arrived alright? Didn't she care?

This particular train of thought sent Harry into a right temper, where he quickly took the stupid ink bottle and the stupid quill to write to his stupid friend who hadn't bothered to write him a stupid letter.

_Dear Stupid_, he would address. _Have you forgotten how to owl or have you forgotten we exist_? Seemed right. He should probably also call her a git…

"Harry?" came a voice from the threshold.

"What do you want, Ron?"

"Are you alright?"

"Why, does your family want to know?" he said bitterly, forgetting all about the letter and got up from the chair. He marched to his trunk and opened it, instantly rummaging for God knows what.

"Harry I was just looking for help."

"I could—very well—handle this myself!" said Harry, struggling to pull something out from the bottom.

"Oh please, Harry, we all need a bit of help. I know what those letters are doing to you, you can't fool me or Hermione."

"I thought you didn't want Hermione to know."

"I _had_ mentioned to her that you'd been receiving letters, but to mention to her that they're getting this serious," he paused and widened his eyes to express the magnitude of the consequences. "I mean if you feel me telling my dad was out of line, she'd be the first to run off and tell Dumbledore himself."

The boy had a point.

"So did you write to her already?" asked Ron, finally entering his room and sitting on the edge of his bed.

_That's right!_ thought Harry, forgetting about what he was trying to pull out (a towel to go shower so that he has an excuse to leave the room) and marched right back to Ron's desk and sat down.

"What are you doing?" asked Ron incredulously.

"Writing that letter, would you like to tell your father?"

Ron chose to ignore it, and laid down on his bed. "Ask her if Malfoy's done anything to her. Knowing the slimy git he's probably already sent her to the hospital wing."

"If I had known Malfoy was staying for the holidays," began Harry, angrily writing away. "I would have definitely made her come."

"You can't make Hermione do anything. She wouldn't've come."

"Then I would have stayed."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Just write '_dear Hermione, why haven't you written to us you sod, has Malfoy hexed you or have you had that nervous breakdown you've had coming to you since first year for being such a bookworm?'_ and then start on that other letter to Parvati. That one should be more like '_dear sex-puppet_—"

"Ron don't be ridiculous, please. Parvati and I are just friends. She wrote to me for the homework yesterday and we've started a conversation since. Relax."

"You say that now because you're supposed to be dating Hermione, but once you two 'break up' we'll see what happens."

"Bugger off. And can we not bring my, and quote, relationship, into this?"

Ron sighed. "Just write the blasted letter, mate."

* * *

"She hasn't owled back," said Harry, looking through Ron's window for any sign of a bird. "Why hasn't she owled back? It's been four hours already."

"Do you want to know why she hasn't owled back, Harry? Because she's either buried in her books and can't be bothered to read anything else, or Malfoy's got her in a chamber, chains and all, whipping her for his sick humor."

Harry turned away from the window and to Ron, a disturbed look on his face. "Don't ever say that again."

"Don't worry. My bet's on the first one."

"Maybe she's just asleep."

"For three days now? Oh that one's much more likely," remarked Ron.

"Well what else could she be possibly doing that she can't even write. I mean, she's the one who always writes to us and we're the ones thattake forever in writing back."

"We don't write at all."

"Exactly!"

"Harry you're fretting again."

"I'm _not_ fretting. You're sure that Terry Boot left for the holidays, right?"

"Positive. I saw him get into the carriage in front of ours. He was looking at you and Hermione funny."

"Honestly?"

"Yeah. So how long do you two plan on faking the relationship?"

"Did Boot talk to Hermione afterwards? You know, when we got into the carriage."

"I wouldn't know. I was in the carriage _with_ you."

"Ron I'm serious."

"He got into the carriage, Harry. No, he didn't talk to her afterwards. Why do you care so much?"

"He supposedly likes her."

"Why the hell would he do that?"

Harry shot Ron a warning glare. "Don't start that again."

Ron raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, don't get your knickers in a knot. So tell me, why would him liking Hermione be a problem?"

"Are you kidding? You know how he is, the arrogant son of a bitch."

Ron made a face. "That's true. And as soon as a professor comes around he's all courtly and everything. Makes me want to have a good swing at him and remind him we're not in medieval times."

"Exactly!" agreed Harry. "And all he's going to do is get Hermione's hopes up and not ask her out at all."

Ron furrowed his eyebrows at him. "And if he does?"

"And if he does it'll all be a fake."

"You don't know that for sure, Harry. For all you know, he could be like that just with the blokes, but be completely and sickeningly romantic with the lasses."

"Do you honestly think that bloke's got honest intentions with Hermione?"

"Of course not," said Ron easily. "Everyone knows he tries too hard to be like Malfoy and Zabini when it comes to the ladies."

"Exactly. And the last thing I want to see is Hermione get hurt over an idiot like him."

Ron looked at him warily. "Don't you think she could take care of herself?"

"Sure but there's no harm in helping."

"Are you helping or just getting in the way?"

"I'm helping."

"I don't know," said Ron. "I mean, if there's any witch on this planet that can defend herself it's Hermione. She's not weak or fragile, Harry. You're way too overprotective. Just wait and see what happens. I mean," he laughed, "Terry Boot might very well be the only decent looking man to ever lay eyes on Hermione and actually like what he sees."

"That's not true," said Harry. "She's dated Krum, and—"

"You?" offered Ron, throwing his head back and laughing hysterically. Harry just looked at him blankly, a small scowl forming.

"Not funny, Ron. Not funny at all."

* * *

Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy were currently on the floor, facing the sky, and slowly getting soaked as the snow melted to their heat. They were tired beyond words, breathing heavily after their long struggle. Hermione Granger may suck at running, but she certainly was persistent. And it was against this persistence that Draco found his own endurance challenged.

It had surprised them both that the feeling of "that night" hadn't gone away with the next day. In fact, it was still present as they lay next to each other, arms and legs spread out as if they were about to create snow angels. Yes, Hermione had caught up, tackled him, and gotten her wand all the while laughing hysterically. Who could blame them? It was funny. A little girl attacking a full-grown young man, and actually achieving something! Given: she _was_ only winning because he was laughing so hard, but still. It was hilarious.

Draco couldn't remember a time where he'd had so much fun. Innocent fun. He couldn't even remember ever running in the snow, or playing a chase game, or playing any childish game at all. He didn't want to stop. It was oh so entertaining, you see, to look at Hermione Granger and see her trying so hard to do something so simple. Catch him.

Draco then felt the most cold, stinging substance against his face. It took him a few moments to recognize that it was snow burning against his skin, and a few more to put together that Hermione had been the one to put it there.

So she didn't want to stop either.

Having cleared his face, he sat up to look at a beaming Hermione. She was definitely proud of herself, catching Draco Malfoy off guard. How great and rare was that?!

She got up and ran clear to the Quidditch pitch, Draco giving her a few second's start, gathering his own snow for when he caught up to her. In a matter of seconds he was hot on her heels.

He threw snow at her back, and then at her hair, and because it was so funny he did it again. Her hair wasn't in the same curls it had been when they were on their date, so it seemed to him that it would either swallow the snowball or the snowball would bounce right off.

Hermione Granger felt abused. That had to be the fifth snowball against her head. She only threw one at him! And she hadn't even thrown it, she simply _placed_ snow on his face!

She ran under the quidditch stands. _Not smart_, she noted. _No one can see what happens in here._

Like anyone was watching anyway. All the professors were loaded with grading the pre-holiday exams and preparing review for final exams when the holidays ended. Especially for OWL and NEWTS students.

Actually, she should be studying for her NEWTS…

Something warm hit her, and she hit something cold. It took her a second to realize Draco Malfoy had caught her. Damn.

Draco took a handful of snow from next to him, and shoved it down the back of Hermione's neck, the cold invading under her robes. Struggling, she turned around and was soon facing him, only to have another handful of snow set on her face.

She grabbed for snow around her, and put it on his face, neck, sleeves, everywhere. She couldn't really see. All she saw was more snow being piled on her face, stinging all of it's senses. So in conclusion, they looked like two crazy teenagers flinging pathetic handfuls of fluttering snowflakes at each other, and laughing hysterically.

Hermione took a break from getting even to clearing her face, wiping the snow all off.

When she did open her eyes, it was to see the blonde on top of her looking at her intently.

"What?" she asked self-consciously.

He took a moment, just looking at her as if she were the hardest puzzle he's ever come across. "You're pretty," he said.

"Is that a recent discovery you've made?" she laughed, judging of course by the look on his face.

He kept her eyes locked to hers. "I'm afraid not," he said in a low voice, moments later lowering his lips to hers.

Upon contact, Hermione's eyes fluttered shut. Her heart was racing again, suspiciously much faster than it had earlier. It was something to be kissed by Draco Malfoy. His lips were warm and skillful, and for the first time, gentle. He had never kissed her gently.

She raised her hands to his face, her head spinning in exhilaration as his tongue was allowed entry. With one hand on the ground next to her head to support his weight, Draco used his other hand to caress her hair, which was a lot softer than what it looked.

It was at that very moment, as his stomach fluttered with uncharacteristic butterflies, that he knew.

He wanted her. He wanted Hermione Granger.

And it had nothing to do with the bet.

**A.N. **So what do you think? Good enough? Quick enough? Please review it's really the only thing that motivates me to continue.

:-D

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	22. Unattended Children

**Chapter 22: Unattended Children**

_Dear Harry,_

_First of all, my name is not Stupid. There's no need for the name-calling. Honestly Harry—git? Insufferable moron? I'm disappointed. I thought you could be so much more creative. Not to mention the insults were absolutely uncalled for. So I didn't owl you for a couple of days. Since when has that bothered either of you?_

_Which reminds me, tell Ron to stuff it. That nervous breakdown comment is not funny. And how is it that Malfoy's name came up so randomly in the letter? So what if he's here? It doesn't mean that we're going to get all chummy with each other and play in the snow. Nor does it mean that he's got me tied to a stake waiting to set me on fire. Honestly boys, be realistic._

_So how's about in your next letter you just mention that you're worried and miss me? That you'd like to hear from me more often and be reassured that I'm not dead. Sound about right?_

_Sincerely, Hermione_

"Well at least she wrote back," said Ron, having read the letter over Harry's shoulder.

"She still didn't tell us what she was doing," noted Harry, though he didn't seem upset.

"I think it's a bit obvious," laughed Ron, walking to his bed and pulling the covers. "She's studying her brains dead. What else could she do at Hogwarts?"

Harry folded the piece of parchment and put it on the desk before walking to his sleeping bag next to Ron's bed. "I was just wondering. She usually tells us she's studying and then tells us off because we're not."

"Eh," said Ron, pulling the covers over himself. "Hermione's Hermione. We can't do anything about it, she's a girl."

"Too true," said Harry, settling himself in a comfortable position. "Too true."

* * *

It was the morning of Christmas Eve, and Hermione Granger was having a hard time coping with the fact that she wasn't going to be spending Christmas with her family. She hardly saw them anymore, and she felt a bit guilty that once again, she'd found some excuse to not go.

She had already sent out all the gifts she bought to her house and the Burrow, knowing they should be there by the morning. But _she_ wouldn't. She wouldn't be at either home.

Draco was, if possible, in a worse state. As both sat by the lake, covered up with all possible winter gear, the empty gaze they used to stare at the frozen water said it all.

Draco Malfoy had no one to go home to this Christmas. His mother was dead. His father was in Azkaban. Blaise was in bloody Scotland. Even Pansy wasn't available. She was in France with her family. Something Draco doesn't have anymore.

Christmas. Somehow, Draco had a feeling it was going to become a holiday he despised. As terrible as he has always been, he had never disliked Christmas. Now he was close to hating it.

"Draco," asked Hermione quietly. "This is your worst Christmas, isn't it?"

Draco didn't answer. He didn't need to, and Hermione wasn't exactly expecting him to. But something about the fact that she knew, that she didn't need telling or explaining, made Draco feel less…alone. She understood. She figured it out without a heart-to-heart. There was no need for a sob moment or even a small comment from him. She just knew.

"Whatever happens," she said. "Don't become permanently sour for Christmas."

His jaw clenched. "Easier said than done," he said forced.

She bent over and kissed his cheek. Normally this would pretty much make Draco's day, but he just wasn't in that sort of mood. He looked at her and gave her a quick, obligated smile and turned back to the frozen lake.

Hermione turned to the lake as well. Compared to him, her Christmas would be brilliant. Sure she wouldn't be near family, but at least she _had_ one. She had two, actually, including the Weasleys.

"Draco," she said again. He made an odd noise from the back of his throat as a response. "Let's not spend Christmas at Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts is not the problem."

"I'm not saying it is. But here's not a place to spend Christmas."

"I like Hogwarts," stated Draco. "I think it's as good as any place to spend Christmas."

"No you don't," she said. "Christmas shouldn't be spent at a school, no matter how much of a second home it could be."

"That's odd, coming from you."

She smiled. "I'm just saying," she defended lightly. "I think it should be spent at a house. Any house."

Draco turned to look at his red-nosed companion, a slight smile on his face. "What're you suggesting?"

"You know exactly what I'm suggesting."

He turned back to the lake, a bit smug. "It's hardly suitable. Hogwarts is definitely the better choice."

"Definitely not."

"It's bigger."

"Who needs big for two people?"

"It's cleaner."

"We can clean."

"I've never cleaned a day in my life."

"So you can learn," said Hermione. "It's not hard."

He turned to her. "Maybe you didn't get a good look at it because it was dark, but the place is showered—no, drenched—in filth."

"We can fix that."

"Why would we want to?" asked Draco, amused.

Hermione's smile faded into thought. "I don't know," she said. "It's something to do. And we could decorate it afterwards."

"You know how to do that?"

"I can try," she offered. "I was never as good at it as my mother, but it doesn't come out disastrous either."

"I like how you skipped the levels of bad and terrible and went straight to disastrous."

She shoved him lightly and he laughed heartily. "Are you in or not?" she asked.

He looked at his watch. "It's ten-thirty. If we're going to do this we've got to get moving. It's a good way over to there and I'm sure we're going to have to pick up some things from Hogsmeade."

"Perfect," said Hermione. "Let's go to Hogsmeade quickly, pick up a couple of things and be on our way. We should be at the house by eleven, eleven-fifteen."

"Sounds good," he said, and got up. He held out a hand, which she easily took, and helped her up. "To Hogsmeade then."

But both, in their last-minute plans, forgot just how busy it could get Christmas Eve. Hogsmeade was busy beyond belief. Lines went from cash register to exit, and in the food stores, the lines were longer than that.

As soon as Draco caught sight of that he suggested they forget the idea.

"No," she said. "We can split up and get it all done faster."

He looked doubtfully. "I don't think you'll like that."

"Why?"

Draco narrowed his eyes, as if studying her. "Aren't you one of those people that are never happy with another person's work?"

"What?" she asked, seriously lost.

"I'm sure that as soon as we meet up again, I'm going to have forgotten something, or gotten the wrong thing, or the bad deal—"

"Yes," cut Hermione. "I am that sort of person."

"Yeah you see, that's not going to work."

"And it's exactly for that reason that I'm going to give you a list of the things you can't possible mess up."

"Watch me do just that."

He gave him a look. "Impossible," she said. She took out the only list that the walk to Hogsmeade had given her time to make. "It's cleaning supplies with definite names. You can read, can't you?"

He snatched it playfully out of her hands. "Ha, ha, very funny."

She smiled. "Good. We couldn't be seen together anyway."

Draco nodded. "Good point."

"Right. So you take care of the cleaning, and I'll take care of the decorations. Wait, what about food?"

"Food," repeated Draco, realizing he hadn't thought about it. "We need food."

"Do you know how to cook?" she asked. He gave her a look. "Right," she said.

"Don't you?"

Hermione crossed her arms. "And why do you assume that _I_ know how to cook?"

"You're a muggle," he said simply. "Don't muggles cook?"

"All the same as wizards and witches do," she said, and then she smiled. "I thought you were going to say that it's because I'm a girl."

Draco let out a laugh. "No, I know a lot of witches that don't know how to cook." He looked down at the list and skimmed it. "Alright," he said approvingly. "I know a total of zero items on this list."

She laughed. "Come on, let's hurry."

"We still don't know about the food."

"Take-out," said Hermione.

"Take out what?"

"Nothing, don't worry about it. I'll buy something from a restaurant."

"Which one?"

"Draco!"

"Okay, okay. We're going."

It took a lot longer than what Hermione had originally predicted. Instead of eleven to eleven-fifteen, they got to the house at one. By the time they met up, frustration and aggravation were the only emotions they were feeling. But by the time they reached the old house in the middle of nowhere at the very edge of Hogsmeade, their moods had lightened.

"That was a nightmare," said Draco, closing the squeaky door after Hermione, holding what he felt were one hundred bags.

"Definitely," she said, tired. She looked around the house, the light of day shining through the windows and illuminating everything. "You know," she said. "This place looks loads different in the day."

Draco looked around. "Dirtier?"

"That too," agreed Hermione, and turned to smile at him. "Shall we?"

"We sounds like an army."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "We sounds just right."

Draco slumped his shoulders and tilted his head back. "We're not going to do the _whole_ house, are we?"

Hermione considered it. The house, though muggle, was big. And dirty. The living room alone should take it's good couple of hours. She remembered what her mother always told her: the two most important rooms to keep clean were the kitchen and the bathroom.

"Okay let's clean the living room—"

"Obviously."

"The kitchen and the bathroom."

Draco looked at her. "You're doing the bathroom."

"Then you're doing the kitchen," responded Hermione. "And we'll both do the living room."

"Deal," said Draco.

Draco ended up cleaning the bathroom. You see, the plan of splitting the work failed for one reason and one reason only. They didn't split up. After the living room's cleaning (three hours) they both worked on the kitchen. Hermione said it was because she didn't really trust Draco to clean a place where food would be concerned, which was an outright lie because he proved to be a pretty good cleaner. Draco knew this, and when Hermione went off to clean the bathroom, he said it was only fair that he help since she helped him. It was seven thirty by then, and Hermione suggested she get started on the food.

"I thought you couldn't cook," said Draco.

"But I can bake."

So instead of spending another couple of hours together cleaning, poking fun, and laughing as Draco had hoped, Hermione went to the kitchen (now spotless) and Draco went to clean the bathroom all by himself.

When he was done two hours later (Scourgify could only do so much) he went into the kitchen to see what Hermione was up to.

"Hey," he said from the threshold. "Smells decent."

She smiled, knowing what he really meant. She had senses too, you know, and she knew she was a mean baker. "Hey," she said, sleeves rolled to her elbows. She was holding a big, deep bowl with one hand and mixing ingredients with the other.

"Did you wash your hands?" asked Draco, noticing her technique.

"Do you really have to ask?"

"Just checking," he smiled. "You know, you look kinda cute like that."

Hermione's smile grew as she averted her eyes away from him, a light pink on her cheeks.

"Kinda," he repeated, and laughed when he received a harmless glare.

Hermione wiped her forehead with her forearm. For some reason, it was getting hot. "Draco, can you do me a favor? Can you just tie up my hair, it's getting in the way."

Draco walked into the kitchen, "with what?"

"This," said Hermione, extending out the same arm she had wiped her forehead with, and indicating he take the hair tie from her wrist.

He did, and circled to be behind her. Her arm went back to holding the bowl.

He was hesitant to touch her hair. Not because it was disgusting or unbelievably vicious, but he hadn't ever done this before. Hermione had stopped mixing and was waiting, so the pressure, Draco felt, was intense.

He started one side, his hand randomly swooping one great handful of hair. He put the hair tie in his mouth and used his other hand to swoop at the other side, uniting the handfuls as one. He gathered every possible loose hair he could, slowly, cautiously. Her hair wasn't fantastic tonight, nothing special about it. But he still felt an incredible softness to it, and wondered if it was all hair or just hers.

Hermione was a completely different story. His gentle touch was sending sparks throughout her whole body, and she knew her face was bright red.

He finally tied it after five whole minutes, and it was a sloppy, not tight enough ponytail, but the job was done.

"Thanks," she muttered, and returned to mixing.

Draco went back to his safe spot by the threshold, where his insides didn't make attempts at gymnastics.

The oven gave a _ting_, and Hermione, flustered, turned around to look at it. "Draco, do you mind taking out what's in the oven?"

"Taking out?" he repeated. "How many things are you making?"

"You didn't think it was the mix what smelled so good, did you?"

Draco didn't respond. As a matter of fact, yes, that's what he figured smelled so good.

Draco opened the oven, and took out his wand. "_Wingardium Leviosa,_" he muttered, and took out one of the three objects in it.

He set all three at the counter and asked her what they were.

"I'm sure you know what cookies look like."

"I meant the other two," he said.

"Brownies are in the square batter, and the other one has cupcakes."

"What are you making there, then?"

"A cake," she said. "Why don't you go and get started on the decorations?"

"I'm not a decorator."

"Just set up the tree," she said easily. "It comes with instructions."

"You got a tree?" he asked.

"Of course I got a tree," said Hermione, adding some ingredient Draco thought looked like brown powder. "There's no Christmas without a Christmas tree."

So Draco got to work. He knew how to read, he knew all about coordination thanks to Quidditch, but for some reason, putting a fake tree together was a lot more complicated than he thought it would be.

By then Hermione had momentarily finished in the kitchen and walked over to him in the living room.

"Still on it?" she asked.

Frustrated, Draco huffed before answering. "It's more complicated than it looks, okay?"

"Draco it comes with pictures."

"They're pathetic drawings that aren't clear."

"It comes in three parts!"

"Three parts?! More like three million," he said sourly. He fumbled the instruction pamphlet and with a bout of frustration asked, "what the hell are screws anyway?"

"Screws are part of both muggle and wizarding worlds," mused Hermione.

"Yeah? Well I've never seen them."

Hermione laughed and knelt next to him. "Let me have a look," said Hermione.

"No."

"Come on, two heads are better than one."

"No."

"Draco I've got more practice with these things, I'm a muggle."

Draco looked at her, and relented to giving her the instructions.

"In your defense, the pictures are pretty bad."

Fifteen minutes later Hermione and Draco both put together the tree, and were starting on the decorations. The oven gave another _ting_ from the kitchen and Hermione hurried off, telling him to finish with it.

It turned out that Draco was not only a good cleaner but also an excellent decorator.

"Wow," said Hermione an hour later, taking in the transformation of the living room. "This is actually really good."

"Yeah I know," said Draco.

Hermione laughed. "This is way better than what I've _ever_ managed to do back home."

"Really?" he asked.

"I'm not kidding," said Hermione. "I'll heat the food while you go take a shower."

"Shower?" asked Draco. "And change into what?"

"I bought sweatpants and a tee-shirt."

Draco almost looked scandalized. "You did what?"

"I bought two pair of sweatpants, tee-shirts, sweaters, and blankets."

"Are they my size?" asked Draco, ready to feel completely stalked. It was sort of exciting.

"I have no idea," she said genuinely. "I just got the smallest size for me and the biggest for you. There's no way we were going to stay in the same clothes after all that cleaning. And since we didn't have time to stop by to pick up our own clothes, I bought some."

"And you did all that in the same amount of time I bought the stuff to clean and decorations?"

"I guess," said Hermione, as if it was nothing. "Now go shower. The soap's in the green bag and the towels and clothes are in the brown one."

Draco gave her an odd look. "You're too prepared," he said.

"No I'm not. I didn't buy any shampoos."

"Soap's good enough. I wasn't even expecting to shower tonight."

Hermione smiled. "Go. I'm going to finish in the kitchen. Try and be out by eleven."

Draco looked at the clock on top of the fireplace. 10:45. "No problem."

When Draco came out, Hermione had successfully finished decorating all of her baking and heated the food she had ordered from a restaurant. It was a simple mix of fish, rice, and a salad. Not the best Christmas dinner, but then again they had her baking.

"Congratulations," said Draco from the living room. "You have no idea what my size is."

"Sorry," she yelled from the kitchen, and without taking a look at him herself, left to take a shower. She emerged ten minutes later.

They weren't perfectly showered, nor perfectly clothed as she didn't buy any undergarments, but it was better than staying in the clothes they had cleaned in all day.

Draco was in the living room, sitting on the sofa and shuffling his hair dry. He smiled when he saw her. "About time, I'm starving."

She grinned. "Good."

The food that was bought at the restaurant was hardly enough to fill them up, and when finished, the baked goods came out.

Sitting in the middle of the living room on a blanket, Hermione and Draco stuffed their faces with brownies, green and red sprinkled cookies, white frosted vanilla cupcakes, and a cake that was to die for. What was in it, Draco couldn't really pinpoint, but he wouldn't mind living off of it. In fact, except for two thin slices that Hermione ate, Draco downed the whole thing on his own.

They talked about everything that had to do with Christmas. Obviously, Hermione had more interesting stories to tell, but Draco didn't mind. He actually enjoyed picturing what she was telling him. And, of course, laughing at it.

"Stop laughing, it's not funny!"

"Yes it is."

"I was really convinced I could prove Santa Clause was evil."

"And you sent him letters that said 'it's on.' That's _definitely_ hilarious."

"Wouldn't you think a man that comes into your house uninvited is bad?"

"Not if he's leaving me presents."

"It's breaking and entering!"

"Oh please—"

"And he steals food you left on the table."

"You're suppose to leave it _for_ him."

"And how does he know it's for him? What if you accidentally left it there? Or what if someone's poor and can't afford to leave him cookies and milk? Is that why he didn't stop by their house and leave presents?"

Draco laughed really hard. "What's wrong with you, its Santa Clause! You're supposed to try and get on his good side."

"Yeah well at least I believed he existed."

"And hated him. I think he'd rather it the other way around."

And eventually, around two in the morning, all possible Christmas talk died out and all that was left were four brownies and three cupcakes. They had realized long before that the milk had ran out in all the baking, and couldn't possibly continue without it.

But they weren't thinking about that anymore. The conversation had shifted into something a bit more captivating.

"You're definitely something, Hermione Granger," said Draco, staring at her.

She gave a polite, flattered laugh.

"I'm serious," said Draco. "You're brilliant."

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "You're pretty smart yourself."

"I am, aren't I?" he said, all in good humor. "You know, I never thought you were a fun person to hang out with."

"Great. Thanks."

"And you're beautiful."

"See now I know you're lying," she said, a smile on her face.

"You are beautiful," he said, slightly alarmed. "Who told you you weren't?"

"Everyone," said Hermione lightly. "Including you."

"Well I was lying."

"No, Draco, you weren't. Let's face it, I don't' exactly take care of my appearance."

"But when you do, you're a knock-out."

She laughed. "Well you'd know all about being a knock out."

He raised his eyebrows. "Please continue."

"You're about the best looking guy at Hogwarts. All girls melt if you so much as look their way."

"Really?" he questioned. "Funny I don't remember you doing that."

"I don't count," said Hermione. "We had a nasty history."

"And yet, I remember a very interesting train ride to Hogwarts—ouch!"

Hermione had thrown a nearby cushion straight at his head. "That never happened," she told him.

"Yes it did," he teased. "I was there."

She hit him with the cushion again, but this time he blocked it successfully, took it, and swung it at her.

She reached for another one, getting up and running to one of the sofas, Draco right behind her. Taking hold of one, she turned around and began swinging it at him. He did the same, until they were both pathetically swatting away each other's attempts at a good hit.

Laughing Hermione fell back on the sofa, and Draco was able to get a few good aims. She let go of her cushion and went to grab his, but he held on. They struggled.

"It's man vs. woman," said Draco. "I'm stronger by nature, you should just give up."

This worked just as he wanted it to. She got angrier, and he just laughed at it. To his surprise though, she did pry it from his grip.

"Damn," he said. Hermione pushed him roughly to the side, got up from the sofa, and ran around the blanket and as far away as possible.

She turned around and paused, an approaching and smiling Draco getting closer and closer. "I think you have something that belongs to me," he smiled.

"There are like five more lying around, go for those!"

"I want that one," he said, having reached her. She put the cushion behind her, and started walking backwards. "Well too bad, it's mine."

He reached with one hand for the cushion, then with the other. She dodged both, smiling like a maniac. "What's the matter? Slytherin's seeker too slow for non-athletic Hermione Granger?"

His jaw dropped slightly in mock offense before both arms encircled her for the cushion.

And then, as both stood mere inches from each other's face, time froze. The fire and Christmas lights in the living room were the only sources of light, leaving half of their faces in light shadows.

Hermione's heart was thrashing against her chest and her body seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. He looked stunning right there in front of her, his arms around her, both holding on to the same cushion.

She looked into his eyes, and in them she saw a mixture of desire and fear. _So he's scared too_, thought Hermione.

His face seemed to be getting closer, until Hermione could no longer look at his eyes, but concentrated on the approaching lips.

Simultaneously they both let go of the cushion, letting it drop to the floor. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and Draco wrapped his around her waist, eagerly bringing each other into contact.

Their lips were at first impatient. They had spent a whole day together and hadn't kissed. The realization was devastatingly huge and the need to make up for lost time was instantaneous. But eventually, they calmed down to a gentle caress.

Hermione tasted her cake, and smiled into the kiss. She still couldn't believe he ate the whole thing by himself.

She felt his hands sneak under the back of her shirt, and she stiffened for a moment, but he kept his hands at the small of her back. It was his turn to smile. He couldn't deny that he wanted to do more with her, the most if possible. But he knew better than to knock on that door. And really, this was enough. He would, like any guy, want more. But this, just kissing her, was plenty satisfying.

"Merry Christmas," murmured Draco as they separated for a breath.

"It's been Christmas for a couple of hours now," she whispered back, smiling. "But Merry Christmas anyway," she said, and began kissing him again.

Around four in the morning, the two fell asleep together on the floor, heads on cushions and the second blanket covering them. The blanket with all the food was pushed to the side, both too tired to pick anything up.

Draco wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. Her hair smelled like the soap she bought, and he thought it was funny how it adapted scent so easily. He smiled and realized, with drowsiness, that he had, after all, had an excellent Christmas.

* * *

It was the eighth day into the Holidays, and Draco found himself standing a corridor away from the Head's Common Room at a quarter to six. He was, of course, waiting for Hermione.

It was undeniable. Whatever either of them decided to do, they did together. They had developed somewhat of a routine. In the morning, they met before breakfast, and then again after breakfast, having agreed to not eat together to prevent suspicion from the professors.

Around one, after aimlessly walking the grounds in a deep conversation that had no purpose whatsoever, they would head over to the library to prepare for N.E.W.T.S. Draco had to admit, studying did help. He found himself learning a thing or two that had been skipped in class. No wonder Hermione was so smart. She wasn't _born_ with the knowledge, she was dedicated to her schoolwork. Sometimes a bit too dedicated. She didn't know how to balance studying and the rest of her life, and that's why Draco was there.

At three, Draco would pack his books (and hers) and drag her out for a bit of exercise. He would not have anymore of this "athletically incapable" crap. Why? Because it was an outright lie. He remembered running after her that night Pansy and company played that nasty little trick on her. She was able to run then, now wasn't she?

So it was at this time that he would chase her everywhere, or try and teach her how to throw a rugby ball (her fear of heights eliminated all options that concerned a broom, including Quidditch). She had improved a great deal, and he was proud. As a matter of fact, that same day she had thrown her first, perfectly firm pass.

His amazement and joy were so immense he threw the ball onto the ground and cheering like a madman, flung his fists into the air and charged at her in victory.

Hermione, who did not enjoy being tackled, gave him a good punch on the arm, told him that her learning how to throw would not get her anything because only Ravenclaws played rugby anyway, and she didn't even play sports with Gryffindors. He suggested Slytherin, earning himself an incredulous look, which he returned with a deep passionate kiss.

Back in the corridor, Draco smiled to himself. He couldn't deny that his favorite thing in the world was kissing Hermione. Every time they kissed it was the same, and he loved it. Every time he kissed her, he'd get those blasted butterflies and that wickedly increased heartbeat. Yes. Draco Malfoy loved kissing Hermione Granger.

"You look a bit insane, laughing by yourself."

Draco looked to his right, seeing the very girl he had been waiting for. "Took you a while."

"I was responding to a rather _rude_ letter."

Draco laughed, pushing himself off the wall. "Rude? And who would possibly send you a rude letter besides me?"

"Harry."

"Potter?" asked Draco, beginning to walk to the Great Hall.

"The one and only."

"What'd you do to him?"

"Didn't write. _And_ he heard from Ginny that you had stayed for the Holidays, so he figured that I either forgot him or you had me chained in a dungeon."

"Ah."

"That was the first letter _days_ ago. It's been the same argument back and forth. I told him he was being ridiculous. Does he listen? Of course not." She sighed. "But enough about Harry, I'm starving. What d'you think they'll have for dinner?"

"If it were up to Dobby, poison."

"He'd never."

Draco laughed. "You've no idea what that houself's capable of doing."

Hermione contemplated for a moment. She thought about the whole 'save-Harry-Potter-by-hurting-him' theory he had back in their 2nd year. "Yeah, you're right. But he wouldn't poison food. He'd get fired."

But Draco had long stopped thinking about the houself. He was thinking about something else.

"Hermione let's do something different tonight."

"Oh? Like what?"

"Like, I dunno, leave the school."

"Draco, we're not allowed—"

"Don't give me that, you've done it a million times before."

Hermione gave him a look. "Fine," she resented. "But we still have to show up for dinner.

"Alright, after dinner then," said Draco, stopping before the Great Hall. He looked around to check if anybody else was nearby, and with a wolfish grin, bent down and gave her a quick kiss.

Hermione turned a light pink before abruptly turning around and entering the hall. Draco waited a whole two minutes before pursuing, and sat at his usual spot where he could conveniently look at Hermione.

Food appeared before them. Roasted chicken, turkey, rhubarb crumble and custard were just some of the choices available. Both Draco and Hermione couldn't figure why the houselves would make so much food. They weren't going to eat it all. They weren't even going to eat half.

Draco picked up his plate and started to pile food onto it, smirking from across the Hall at Hermione. He winked at her, and she immediately glanced at the Professor's table to make sure no one had seen.

Hermione gave him a sort of glare once satisfied. That little move had been a risky one, he needed to be more careful. Draco just smirked on. Hermione Granger needed to relax.

A brown owl, very much like the ones at Hogwarts, entered the Great Hall, quickly capturing everyone's attention. It landed in front of Hermione, and looked at her expectantly.

"For me?" she asked it. She patted her robes to see if she might have brought any sort of money or treats with her. She hadn't.

"I'm sorry I haven't got anything for you," she said ruefully. "But you can have anything you like from this table, I'm barely going to eat any of it."

The owl hooted as if accepting her offer, and indeed walked to pick at the turkey. Hermione picked up the letter it had dropped on the table, and a stared at the envelope for a moment, trying to figure out who would write to her. Unless the Weasleys had gotten themselves a new owl, she didn't expect it to be from Ron or Harry. She had _just_ sent them her reply. She opened the letter.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I hope your holiday's going well. I heard you were staying at Hogwarts this Christmas and I figured I'd write. Sorry if I interrupted your studying, truly I am. I've been meaning to talk to you for a while now, and I can't deny that I feel a bit cowardly for doing this by letter instead of in person, but I never really saw the chance to approach you._

_Hermione Granger, you're truly the brightest girl I know. For years now I've been attracted to you. You're noble, kind, and brilliant. This truth has been eating me up for some time, and I really can't take it anymore. I believe that to a certain extent, these feelings are returned. Those hours of conversations and walks could not have gone unnoticed. I know I've given you signs, and I feel like I've gotten them in return. My dearest Hermione Granger, you are my crush._

_Love always, Terry Boot._

Hermione stared at the letter. A very big part of her wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the wording, but then there was this other part of her that felt Terry would find out she laughed at him, so she didn't. She just stared.

She read it over again, and then once more, as if it was going to change and become something less…rash. The letter in a whole was so forward Hermione felt it just _had_ to be a joke.

_For years I've been attracted to you._ See that right there seemed so farfetched. Terry most definitely did notlike her for _years_. Just this year he started talking to her. Then again, maybe it's just this year that he packed up the courage to do something about his, and quote, feelings.

Hermione didn't know what to make of it. It was sweet, and who knew, maybe this was Terry's form of courting her. Maybe this was truly sincere.

And that's when it happened. Hermione began to fantasize about a younger Terry, sitting somewhere behind her in class and staring at her, secretly admiring her in a way no one else had; wishing that she'd look his way, and fantasizing himself about one day taking her to Hogsmeade on a date, holding her hand, kissing her even. A Terry Boot that had found her attractive without even actually talking to her.

Hermione's stomach fluttered with hope and flattery. She allowed herself a small smile as a light pink crept up her neck and to her face. Then, as a result of feeling the heat on her face, she became self-conscious of who could be watching her blush. That's when she remembered Draco.

Hermione looked up to meet a watchful pair of silver orbs. She quickly looked away and nervously folded the letter back into its envelope, putting it in her pocket. It wasn't long before Hermione left the Great Hall.

* * *

"_My dearest Hermione Granger, you are my crush. Love always, Terry Boot._"

"You made me sound like an absolute love-sick pansy," said Terry, lying down on Romilda Vane's full-sized bed. "It's a bit unbecoming to my character."

"Well I'm terribly sorry but it's what you're going to have to be from now on," she said matter-of-factly, placing the parchment on her bureau. "A love-sick pansy."

"Until when, Romilda?" he asked impatiently. "Until they break up or until Potter acknowledges you're breathing?"

"Harry knows I'm alive, alright? And I know he likes me, it's just that Granger that's—"

"Hermione Granger hasn't done an ounce of wrong to you, Romilda. I just don't get it. You've had me doing this since the beginning of the year, even before they started going out."

"Because I _predicted_ that it was going to happen," she answered, and then gave him a pointed look. "If you had done your job correctly we could've prevented it."

Romilda crossed her arms and leaned against her bureau. "So now we've got to take more drastic steps."

Terry cracked a small, somewhat wicked smile. He rose from the bed and moved to pick up the piece of parchment she had put down before. "Is this what you categorize as drastic?" he asked her. "Because I'd more likely put it under disastrous."

"Well too bad, I already sent her a cleaner copy."

"Did you at least make it look like a bloke's handwriting? Because I'll tell you right now, this just screams Romilda Vane."

He had been standing close to her, their faces almost touching as he significantly rose the paper for emphasis.

She smiled tightly. "I made it look like _your_ handwriting. Not exactly like a bloke's, is it?"

He laughed and took a step away from her. "So this is your grand plan? All vacation send her love letters and hope that by the time the holidays are over, she's either broken up with him or will. Because of me."

"Exactly," she grinned. "And then, heartbroken, he'll search for any source of comfort, and guess who'll be there?"

"You," he said sourly.

"That's right, me."

"And when that fails to happen, because I assure you it will, will you finally look my way?"

She gave him an insincere smile and walked passed him, sitting down on her bed. She looked at him, "I told you not to fall in love with me, Terry."

"Yeah," said Terry, walking to the bureau and leaning against it. "But how was I supposed to control that?"

"I might be wrong," said Romilda thoughtfully, "but aren't the girls supposed to become clingy after intimacy?"

"Quit it, will you? I'm serious. What about us, Romilda?" asked Terry. He moved from the bureau to sit in front of her on the bed. "Will you finally be with me after you've had your shot with Potter?"

She rolled her eyes. "Why does this always come up? I never guaranteed you anything—"

"I'm not a fool, Romilda!" yelled Terry.

"Stop yelling I'm right in front of you."

"I'm not a fool," he said, lowering his tone significantly. "I know you're using me."

"I'm not _using_ you."

"You're taking advantage of the fact that I'll do anything for you, even take part in this—devilish—pathetic plan of yours to—"

"You're stuttering, just stop."

"I'm about to hurt a girl who's never done anything but be nice to me."

"It'll only hurt if she finds out."

Terry looked at her, his nose flaring a bit. "When will you give up?"

She looked back at Terry. She wasn't exactly a liar, but she wasn't stupid either. He was the biggest part of her plan, and if she needed to bring his hopes up just to keep him on track, she will.

"If they haven't broken up by the time N.E.W.T.S. start, then I'll…give up."

A small smile reluctantly crawled on his handsome features. "And?"

"And then we'll be together," she replied. "I just need to get it out of my system, you know?"

He nodded, and then leaned to kiss her. "Till N.E.W.T.S. then," he said, content.

* * *

She was supposed to wait for Draco after dinner three corridors to the right of the Great Hall. They'd even had a severe discussion of which right was right: the right when you were facing the Great Hall or when you were facing away from it. They had decided on the latter. After all, it was where you met up _after_ eating. But when Draco reached the third corridor to the right of the Great Hall, there was no Hermione waiting for him. There was Nearly-Headless Nick, though, who Draco hardly cared for.

So Draco headed for three corridors to the _other_ right of the Great Hall and still there was no one waiting for him.

"Where the hell could she possibly be?" he muttered to himself, making his way to the Head's Common Room.

There was a little thing about Draco that he thought probably nobody knew, but in fact everyone did. He hated to being disappointed. Anything that didn't come out as expected fell into category. So because he expected Hermione to be waiting for him three corridors to the right of the Great Hall, and she wasn't there, he was disappointed. And he hated it.

He had some gut feeling it had something to do with that letter she got during dinner, and he had a feeling it was Potter. Stupid git, never knew when to shut up or take a hint. She didn't go with them for the Holidays for a reason; she didn't want to. And there he was sending her hate letters for stupid things like not writing. She's obviously got better things to do.

_Hermione's probably crying her eyes out right about now_, he thought. _Or writing back to him. Prolly both._

He stopped walking where he normally waited for her, and indeed waited. And waited, and waited.

Three whole minutes passed and she still didn't come out.

"Bloody hell, Hermione."

He turned around and stormed down the hall and continued his angry way out of the school. He wasn't going to leave without letting Hermione know just how he felt about being ditched.

But just as he was about to open the doors to the owlery, someone else did. The brown-eyed girl came out in a hurry, slightly bumping into Draco.

"Oh—_oh_," she said. Then a sort of sorry look took over. "Darn it, you're already done." She put a lock of hair behind her ears and gave him a lopsided smile. "I was hoping to finish everything and still make it on time to meet up with you."

"Finish what?" he asked sourly.

"What?" asked Hermione nervously, and laughed. "Let's go to the tower it's freezing out here."

"Who sent you the letter?" he asked.

"Letter?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah the one you got at dinner. Who was it from?"

"Oh the letter!" she laughed. Why was she laughing? Is that something she did when she was nervous?

"Who sent it to you?"

"Uh, no one important, Draco. I really don't want to talk about it."

"I can't know?"

Hermione fed him another sorry look. "It's not that I don't trust you, but it's sort of a bit…personal."

"Personal."

"Yeah. Hey are you mad? I'm really sorry—"

"Doesn't matter."

Hermione blinked. "What doesn't matter?"

Somewhere in the back of Draco's mind he realized he was acting like a bratty pre-teen, and he couldn't seem to stop it. Not to mention he didn't really care to. It was his feelings and Draco was always one to act on impulse. He didn't want to tell her what _didn't matter_, so he turned abruptly and began walking back to the castle.

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed together before she took a quick jog and stood in front of him to block his way. "Hey, what's the matter?" she asked. "I said I was sorry, Draco, and I meant it."

"I said it doesn't matter," he responded icily, looking past her. "Just let it go."

Something in Hermione's stomach churned and she discovered she didn't like Draco being mad at her. She didn't like him talking indifferently to her and she _hated_ that he wasn't looking at her. She bit her lip and regarded him with apprehension. "Draco—"

"Forget it." There it was, that tone again. He moved to walk past her, but she quickly took hold of his wrist, turning as he continued to walk until she pulled on it.

He seemed to turn reluctantly. At this point he didn't know who he was angry with more; Hermione for ditching him or himself for acting so stupid. Yes, he recognized he was acting like a little girl at that moment.

But Hermione didn't see it like that. Maybe if she was actually writing to someone that wasn't Terry, she would. But responding to him, a possible romance, it almost felt as if she were…_cheating_. And oh boy, was it a guilt trip.

But Hermione and Draco weren't _dating_. So therefore, a couple of letters were harmless. Even so, it wasn't like she responded his feelings. She reminded him that she was dating _Harry _and that at the moment, there wasn't any possibility for the both of them.

She also made sure to not make her relationship with Harry sound permanent, and dared to insinuate a possibility between them in the future. But Hermione wasn't going to admit that to herself at the moment.

She looked at him, now only taking small glances at her. The pit in her stomach grew a tiny bit.

"Draco," she whined. "Look at me."

He did, along with a curt "what?"

"I'm sorry."

"Fine," he said, and began to turn again but she held on.

"Stop," she said, a bit more sternly. She softened once he looked at her steadily. "It won't happen again, just please don't be mad at me."

"I'm not mad."

Hermione's pit grew more. She felt like the biggest mess-up in the world. Who had her writing back immediately? Couldn't she wait? Couldn't she have just told Terry to back the hell up so she wouldn't feel so damned guilty right now?

Hermione took as step forward, and it might have been her imagination, but Draco's features seemed to have softened by a small fraction, but he was back to not looking at her.

She changed that by taking hold of his face, and placing her lips on his. It was a quick kiss, just to make him look at her.

"Listen, I'm sorry okay? It won't happen again."

He didn't answer, and went back to looking past her as if saying _okay but I'm still mad._

Hermione let a small smile play on her lips. Since when was he the sensitive type?

Hermione placed her lips on his again, and it wasn't long before Draco finally gave in and kissed her back. She pulled back and looked at him, silently asking him if he forgave her. Somehow understanding, he nodded. Then a big, devilish grin broke out on his face. "You've got to make it up now."

She gave him a pointed look. "And just how do you expect that to go?"

He looked away from her, a non-malicious sarcasm in his voice. "Oh, I don't know, maybe something, nice."

"Nice."

"Yeah. Like me and you, in the nude—"

"Next!" said Hermione, thankful that the dark was hiding her blush.

"Fine. Like only you in the nude—"

"Draco!"

He laughed. "Just joking, Hermione. Though if you ever have a change of heart—"

She gave him a good whack on the arm.

"Ow," he said pointedly, rubbing the sore spot.

"Well quit saying rubbish," she said, somewhat ruefully.

"Fine then," he said. "You come up with ideas since you clearly don't like mine."

Hermione gave him a look that said she definitely agreed, and started to ransack her brain. Nothing really came up.

"Well we could—"

"Please spare me the life-changing book. Extending my holiday reading is not exactly my idea of making it up to me."

Hermione scowled. "I wasn't going to give you a book, Draco."

"Just checking," he shrugged. "You _are_ Hermione Granger."

She gave him a tight smile before returning. "How about tomorrow we skip the usual studying part?"

Draco looked bored. "You've got to do better than that."

"Tomorrow and the next day?" she offered.

Draco considered. It would be nice to not have to drag Hermione out of the library, always begging for another five minutes. But then again, he didn't completely mind the study sessions. He actually liked learning something every now and then, and in some sick way was looking forward to going back to classes and competing with Hermione. He felt like he finally had a chance.

"No. We're keeping the studying," said Draco. Hermione gave him an odd look.

"Really?" she asked. "You _want_ to study?"

"I don't know about _wanting_, but I don't mind it."

She grinned. "You like it."

"What?! That's rubbish."

"You _so_ like it!" she laughed. "In fact, you're not willing to give it up."

"Don't be rash," he said, disgusted. "Studying's not something I look forward to."

"Uh-huh. Okay."

"Shut up."

Hermione took it as a confirmation and gave a short squeal before throwing her arms around his neck, jumping in order to do so successfully. He bent down so that her feet could touch ground, and reluctantly let a grin spread across his face. "You _like studying_," she whispered.

This wasn't something she did often, but she was increasingly doing all sorts of unusual things nowadays (such as spending the Holidays with Draco Malfoy.) It's just that, after all those years next to Harry and Ron, both who hated the art, it was so great to finally find someone. Granted Draco wasn't obsessed with it like she was, but he _liked_ it. It was more than she ever expected out of anyone on the face of the planet.

Draco wrapped his arms around her, marveling at the small things that made her happy. He felt a kiss on his neck, and his grin receded to a shy smile. She kissed his jaw line and made her way to his chin. She pulled back at arm's length, biting her bottom lip. There was a certain tightening of all her insides, an absolute fire. Suddenly this had nothing to do with studying whatsoever.

She kissed his nose, went on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead, moved on to his cheek, and then the other. There was a certain gentleness and caution in each kiss, as if he were something she would scare away if she kissed him too hard.

The cold winter night air blew fiercely so that Draco had to take his hand away from her waist and remove the hair from her face. When he finished his minor task, he kept his hand by her face.

There was something about her, he didn't know what. Or he just hadn't thought about it yet. Either way, she made him act like a love fool. When had he ever in his life put a girl's hair behind her ear so romantically? Okay a few times, more than he'd admit, but when had he ever _felt_ this way about it? All the other times he'd do it the first day, and once he got what he wanted, cut all the romance rubbish. But she was different. Touching Hermione Granger was like being able to fly. Something impossibly great, and scary.

"That hair of yours," he said. She smiled and leaned her face against his hand. It revived instinctively and caressed her cheek, something that made her smile widen.

Hermione looked up at him, who looked back at her with those fierce orbs of his. It was like he needed to memorize everything about her, for no reason other than she was in front of him.

He kissed her again, her lips warm and soft. Once again, his insides did sloppy summersaults, and he loved it.

"I love you," he murmured into the kiss.

Hermione froze, and slowly backed away from the kiss. Eyes wide, she asked gently "what?" She couldn't have heard right.

She was staring at him, and his heart was racing unbelievably fast. His chest constricted. _What did I just say?!_ It slipped, he hadn't meant to say it. He hadn't been thinking clearly, and he didn't exactly want to repeat what had been a mistake.

Because it _had_ been a mistake, right? He didn't love Hermione Granger. He wanted her. He liked her. Which was more than enough to say. But love her? Impossible.

"I love kissing you," he said, looking more frightened than anything.

"Oh," said Hermione, convinced she had heard wrong. She smiled. "I love kissing you, too."

Draco Malfoy breathed, but only slightly, for he knew he'd still have to convince himself.

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**A.N:** Yes it's been a while, hasn't it. But we're discovering things now, and I've got to be cautious around them. Ahh, what unattended children do.

The reviews for the last chapter were amazing, I just thought I'd say. They've always made me go and write just a little bit more. Until, of course, it adds up. So please, REVIEW!!! It'll only motivate me to be quicker about my chapters. :)


	23. Crossing the Line

**Chapter 23: Crossing the Line**

He fell to the ground, spitting blood and gasping as quietly as he could.

"Did anyone ever tell you—it was cowardly to—hit a defenseless man?"

An anonymous foot found its way to his jaw. Blaise rolled back and winced, breathing hard. "Or—when he's down?"

Another foot hit his ribs. He growled in pain, and then gave a short laugh. "Take away my wand and get at me the muggle way," he mumbled. "Typical mudbloods."

Someone stepped on his chest, shortening his already restricted breaths. "What was that, laddie?"

"Oh…_God_," he grumbled. He heard a round of laughter before the foot left his chest. He swore.

"Thought you could just come here and leave untouched?" came a rough voice.

"I hoped," mumbled Blaise, still on his back and catching his breath. "Talking would've—been nice."

"We did loads a talkin'," drawled another. "And we still haven't got our money."

"It's not even the deadline."

"The deadline was the night of the bet. You're lucky to even be alive."

"Thanks it's much—appre—ciate—damn." Another round of laughter.

"What's the matter, kid, can't breathe?"

Blaise briefly wondered what would happen if he were to die right there. Bet then they'd regret ever hitting him. Some crazy part of his spiteful mind wished he would, just to give them something to worry about.

The foot was back on his chest, and Blaise was sure he was in for his last breath this time. In fact, he was sort of enjoying the unpleasant pressure. This was it. He was really going to get out of here.

He started wheezing and coughing. Blood came out, and his face scrunched up, letting everyone know just what amount of pain he was in. They laughed some more, the assholes, and Blaise faintly registered that the man added more pressure to his foot.

There was a churn in his stomach, and the next thing Blaise was aware of was a disgusting sensation of acid reflex and the strong taste of blood, never leaving his mouth as he was lying on his back.

He dropped his head to the side, and coughed as much blood as he could out of his mouth. The sensation was back, and he attempted to double over, as body-mechanisms would have it, but the foot made it impossible. It was awkward, to say the least, vomiting in your mouth.

"Think that's enough," said a slightly worried voice. "Don't wanna kill him now."

"Yeah, we'd never get our money that way," said another.

Blaise felt the pressure on his chest increase. "Sure about that boys? I'm sort of enjoying it."

He was choking on his own vomit. Blaise couldn't remember ever feeling worse, and he's had a fair amount of experience.

He felt his body go into spasms, and if he were a bit more conscious, he would've cursed himself for it. Surely he'd be able to die a bit more _still_.

"Oy!"

"Bloody hell!"

The foot came off his chest, and the men seemed frozen for a moment. There was no one else in the castle. Claudius was taking care of business in another town, and they had sent Walter to fetch bread, knowing the bakery was a good distance away. The old man wasn't dull. He knew it was meant to prevent a possible intervention, and warned Blaise that he'd be alone for the next two hours. He even asked Blaise to go along, but the young are proud and obstinate. "If they want me, I'll be right here," he had told the old butler. "There's not point in running if I'm to come right back."

"Mr. Zabini, I plead that you come with me."

"Walter," said Blaise, "I'll be fine."

And now he was still on the cold marble floor.

"He's stopped," stated one.

"Good Lord," whispered another.

They weren't moving, hardly daring to breathe. "Is he dead?"

No one answered.

"He's not moving—"

"We see that, you fucking dimwit!"

"Well then what the bloody hell are we going to do!"

The man who had put his foot on Blaise's chest spoke: "Someone pick his body up off the floor and bring him out to the back. You," he motioned at a short, stubby man. "Go get a shovel."

* * *

It was the last night of the holidays, and the temperature had reached single-digits. 

The winds were fierce, tearing through bare trees in its inconsistent manner. The moon was shining undisturbed throughout the sky, unaffected by the freezing temperatures. Unaffected by anything.

Hermione envied the moon at that moment, as she sat next to Draco beside the lake. If only she could be that at ease.

The wind blew again and her face burned. She moistened her lips and tightened her scarf.

"It's cold," she stated. Draco said nothing.

"I had fun today," she said smiling at the lake. "Rugby's not so bad after all."

Draco remained silent. Hermione's smile slowly turned to frown.

"I'll always remember it was you who taught me."

Draco shifted his hat to cover his ears and returned to his previous position, not uttering a single word. The wind blew again.

Hermione turned to look at him. He was stoic, much to her aggravation. Was she the only one that wanted to take advantage of the last moments? Had the holiday meant nothing to him? Wasn't he the least bit bothered that it was over?

She turned to look at the lake, mentally cursing the cold and, of course, Draco.

Minutes went by, and then an hour. He didn't say a word, and after another 20 minutes, Hermione lost it.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" she asked bitingly. "All vacation we were fine, chatting up storms and finishing each other's sentences. Now it's the last night before everyone comes back and you've nothing to say? Damnit Draco, _look_ at me!"

He didn't.

"Draco, _look at me_."

He turned to her, offensively nonchalant.

"What the hell is the matter with you tonight? Why aren't you saying a word to me?"

"Because I don't have to," he answered, and turned back to the lake.

Hermione stared incredulously at him. "What?" she asked.

She received no reply.

The wind blew fiercely, and Hermione's hat flew off her head. Neither bothered with it.

"Draco," she said. Her hair flew violently. "We don't have to tell anyone."

"I know."

"Is there something wrong?"

"No."

"So you're just not going to talk to me?"

He didn't reply.

Hermione pursed her lips and huffed. In all the time she had spent with him during this vacation, he had not been so intolerable.

She got up. "Thank you for a wonderful vacation, Draco. It was nice to have met you on such a—personal—level."

Draco tensed in slight confusion, but didn't say anything.

"Have a nice life," she said, and walked off to the castle.

* * *

Hermione lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. 

A tapping came to her window, and with a skip of her heart, she rushed to it and let the owl in. With the hopes of Draco writing a declaration of love and a hope for forgiveness, or something like it, she opened it. The letter was from Ron.

_Hermione,_

_Your boyfriend and I are on our way! Well actually we're not. We're still at the Burrow, and come to think of it we've yet to pack…but we'll be there tomorrow! Harry wanted me to write you this letter because he said you're a bit mad at him. Are you two going to break up anytime soon? If you are, I'd go with "we were better off as friends." If you start rumors on him cheating on you, it'll prevent other girls from dating him. (Harry disagrees, but doesn't want the rumors anyway)._

_I know you've been having the time of your life at the library, but all good things come to their end. Don't cry, Hermione. You know you're still going to live in that bloody place anyway._

_I had something important to tell you, but I've forgotten. Let me ask Harry._

_Did we ever tell you we loved you? You're brilliantly brilliant! I mean, you are a sure academic role model for us all. By the way, did you do the potions essays? Harry and I only did one of them, and we'd like to be able to get some help for the other two…from you, of course. No one would've done it as well as you, so we're just going to the best._

_Sincerely,_

_Ron_

_P.S. Seeing as classes begin in two days, could you possibly send us the essays? We'll take good care of them, we promise! We just need some pointers here and there._

She sent them. She didn't even bother to write a reply.

The room was quiet again.

"Damn him," was all she said.

She got up. She needed a shower.

* * *

It was a gray morning, cold and bitter. But at Hogwarts, the atmosphere of the castle was everything but. With the rush of returning students, and the excitement of reuniting with friends, the cold weather and the gray skies were easily forgotten. 

But for a specific, heart-broken girl, the weather suited her perfectly. She was still in her bed, sleeping out that sick feeling in her stomach every time she remembered she basically ended every possibility with Draco.

_We weren't even dating_, she'd say to herself. _There was never a possibility of anything_.

And it was true. You can't break up with someone you never dated.

So why did it _feel_ like a break up? She'd known it from the start; everything would go back to the way it was once the holidays were over. Had she hoped for something else?

Yes, of course.

But why torment herself?

Therefore, when Hermione was usually up by 7 or 8 on weekends, it was now 11 and she was still in bed. In her defense, she _had_ attempted to wake up earlier. She had gotten as far as brushing her teeth before she realized she much rather stay in bed.

So back to her bed she went, and plopped down in surrender to her depressive state.

A knock came to her door, but she didn't hear it. Then another one, a bit louder, came.

She shifted.

Then the knocks became softer, but never ending. One right after another until Hermione woke up with a start.

Groggily, she opened the door.

Almost immediately, a large hand ruffled her hair and pushed her out of the way. She didn't need to remove the hair from her eyes to know it was Harry.

"Why are you still sleeping?" he asked, walking straight to her desk and sitting on the chair. "Are you feeling alright?"

Hermione closed the door. "Yeah," she said, turning around. "I do."

"Ginny's upset you weren't waiting for us at the doors. Said you completely forgot about us, and that we should ban you for life."

"She did _not_," she said, walking back to her bed. Oh, the comfort! If only she could have _five more minutes_.

"You're not going back to bed, are you?"

"Huh?"

"Come on get ready, we're all waiting for you in the Great Hall!"

"Are you serious?"

"_Are you serious?_" he mocked. "Yeah I'm serious. Ron and Ginny have our seats saved already. All we need is to get there."

"I'm not going," she mumbled, slowly indulging herself back into her bed and under the covers. "Tell them I'll see them later."

Harry gave a sarcastic laugh. "Yeah they'll take that well."

"Oh come on Harry. I'm…tired."

"If I go and tell them that, Hermione, they'll totally forget about the whole don't-kill-the-messenger morale."

"No they won't, Harry."

He observed her from where he sat. She was facing him, her hair spread about her pillow, and clutching the covers to her chin.

"Are you sure you're okay? You look a bit—down."

"I'm not down, I'm tired."

"I mean, I'm not sure if the world is properly rotating as we speak. _You_, Hermione Granger, sleeping at," he looked at his watch, "11:15? I'd be an idiot to think there's nothing wrong with you."

"Harry, all I've done this vacation is study, study, study. Mentally, I'm exhausted, I think it's justified."

"But you're missing _lunch_," he said. "Isn't it the most important meal of the day?"

"That's breakfast, genius."

Harry smiled. "I missed you this vacation."

"Really? Didn't notice with your nice letters addressed to me, a.k.a. Stupid."

"Well you _didn't_ write—"

"What if I was just waiting for you guys to write to me _first_ for once?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "If that was it then I've got two things to say to you. One: wish granted. Two: you are _such_ a girl."

"A _tired_ one," she said pointedly. "I'd appreciate it if you went and told them that I'd like to catch up on my sleep, and that I'll see them later."

"No."

Hermione clenched her jaw. "Harry, I'm telling you right now that I am _not_ going and you cannot possibly make me."

"Fine, I'll stay with you," he said getting up and removing his cloak.

"What? They're waiting for you downstairs."

"I've been with them this whole vacation, we have nothing to catch up on."

"Harry I really don't feel like talking right now."

"I know," he said, having placed his scarf on the chair, on top of his cloak. "But I really don't feel like going down there."

Harry started to unbutton his shirt, simultaneously taking off his shoes.

"Fine," said Hermione. "But I don't like to share the covers."

Harry, now just in his pants, made a face at her. "What do you mean you don't like to—well you're gonna have to, it's about four degrees outside."

Hermione turned around and, clutching to the covers, made sure she had every bit of them covering her.

Harry shoved her aside as he climbed into the bed, prying some of the covers away from her.

"Harry!" she whined.

"Did you really just whine?" he asked, amused. "I've never heard you whine. Let's hear it again," he said, pulling on the covers again.

"_Harry_!!"

"Ok, that was more of a yell, it didn't count," he said, and pulled at them one last time, leaving her with nothing.

"Ugh! That's _it_!" she yelled, before turning to him and smacking him a good number of times on his bare arm. But her aggravation was too great, and not because of Harry, but because of a certain blonde. Suddenly, Harry became that blonde, and she did to him what she wanted to do just a few hours ago to that Slytherin.

Her slaps became harder, until her hand clenched into a fist. For ignoring her on the last day, for not looking at her when she asked him to, for not caring to respond to her comments, for that _hour and twenty minutes_ of silence, and for making her so angry she ended everything, _he_ was going to pay.

"Jesus, Hermione!"

She didn't hear it. She climbed on top of Harry, his hands gripped tightly around her wrists to stop her flailing fists of fury. He sat up to get better command, and struggled to keep her calm.

"They're just covers! What's wrong with you?"

It went in one ear and out the other. She knew she was overreacting, and she knew it was really Draco she wanted to hurt, but Harry, being a playboy himself, would just have to do for now.

Playboy.

It suddenly struck Hermione that, maybe, that was exactly what Draco had been during their two weeks together. Maybe he had been silent that night because _he_ was thinking about how to break it off. Playtime was over. Taller, more beautiful entertainment would be returning to Hogwarts, and a distraction wasn't necessary anymore.

It all made sense now. He didn't stop her, come after her, or even owl her after she left. He let her go.

And chances are he was probably at the Great Hall right now, courting some pretty, long-legged—

Hermione had paused while this very fast, dangerous train of thought was racing through her mind. Coming out of her daze, she looked at Harry's face, his eyes. There was some shine back in them, she noted. That was good. It meant he had a good vacation, and was free of some troubling thoughts at least.

Harry had managed to hold her hands behind her. It was a bit of an awkward stretch to do so, seeing as she was straddling him, but his arms were long enough to manage.

"You alright?" asked Harry intently, thinking she had calmed down. There was something _definitely_ wrong with her.

Hermione turned away from him. She didn't want to look at him, or anyone. All Hermione could think of, and imagine in that vivid imagination of hers, was Draco flirting with some stupid, gorgeous Pureblood.

Her stomach, and heart, became heavy. The look of utter sadness was as clear as January is cold, and for once, Harry didn't pry. He let her have her moment of reflection, or whatever it was she was doing.

"Hermione," he said in a low voice.

She didn't respond at first, but eventually she did look at him, and said "Harry, I'm sorry."

"I would be furious if you acted like that because of the covers. But it's not about the covers, is it?" It was a statement, and of course, he was right. "What happened Hermione?"

Well so much for not prying.

She lightly wrung her wrists out of Harry's grip, and used her free hands to put her loose locks behind her ears. She sighed and smiled at him. "This was ridiculous, let's just—"

Before she could finish her sentence, there was a quick knock on her door, and just as quick, whoever knocked opened the door and walked right in.

"What the hell is taking you so lo—"

It was Ginny. Hermione didn't remember ever giving her the password, but she knew Harry had told Ron, and perhaps that's how she had gotten it.

Just as she had finished her analogy, as if on cue, Ron walked in, curious as to his sister's sudden freeze.

He didn't say anything, but his questioning look was answered when his eyes fell on Harry and Hermione. So that's how they got in. Ron had come.

At first, neither Harry or Hermione understood their stupor. It dawned on them at the same time, and opposed to the traditional scream, scramble and explain, they started laughing.

It was situational irony all the way. Harry, with his bare chest and his pants hidden by the messy covers, and Hermione straddling him beneath them, her hair all a mess…

Oh boy.

"A bit cold to be without clothes," said Ginny pointedly, when they had settled down.

"A bit rude to barge in," said Harry in the same tone.

"I didn't know you were—"

"What the _hell_ is this?!" said Ron. He was always a bit slow to react.

"_This_," said Hermione. "Is nothing."

Harry pretended to be hurt, and gasped dramatically. "I mean nothing to you, Hermione?"

"Oh shut up," she said, getting up. The covers shifted, and Harry's pants were revealed.

"Oh thank God," exhausted Ron, and laughed. "To think—damn am I stupid."

"Good job Hermione. You've cut my fun short," said Harry.

"It still doesn't explain why you were on top of him," said Ginny. "Or why he has no shirt on."

"We were going to sleep and started fighting for the covers."

"Covers?" said Ron.

"Yeah," said Harry. "She went on about not wanting to share them."

"But it's like, _five _degrees out!" said Ron.

"I said four and she _still_ said no."

Ron and Harry shared an incredulous look, and Ginny lost it.

"Why are you acting like what we saw was _normal_?" she asked Ron, disturbed.

"What? They weren't _doing_ it."

Ginny raised her arms in exasperated surrender. "Whatever! I'll never understand you three, and I've just decided not to try anymore," she said, and shaking her head she left the room.

Ron looked back at the other two. "What's up with her?"

They shrugged. They had no idea.

* * *

"Where are they?" asked Seamus. 

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Being their usual weird selves."

"I take it they're not coming, then?"

She nodded and jerked her head to the doors of the Great Hall. "Let's go somewhere. I'm not exactly hungry anymore."

"You were starving just a few minutes ago."

"Yeah? Well I saw something that made my appetite go away."

"Aren't you sounding bitter. What was it, Malfoy?"

"Worse believe it or not," she responded. "You would have lost your appetite too."

Seamus raised his eyebrows and looked at the redhead standing before him. "Care to share?"

"Want to take a walk with me?" she asked pointedly.

Seamus resented and got up to leave with her.

"Oy, Seamus, where you headed?"

"I'll be back in a few, Dean, save me some good stuff."

Seamus turned to follow Ginny out of the hall, and right before they reached the doors, she linked his arm with his.

"I think we've made a huge mistake, Seamus," said Ginny.

They walked out into the foyer and made their way to a quiet hallway.

"Mistake? I don't remember doing anything that could end up in a mistake."

"The whole Harry and Hermione thing? That's gone terribly wrong."

Seamus unlinked his arm from Ginny's. "Huh?"

Ginny tilted her head back, looking positively tormented. "If you had only been there."

"Where?"

Ginny opened her mouth to answer, but closed it again. "I can't even say it!"

"Jesus, Ginny, just say it. You're starting to scare me."

And so, Ginny relented to Seamus what she saw in Hermione's room, in detail, and then the dialogue afterwards. When she was done, Seamus was still confused.

"I don't' get it. How is this our mistake?"

"Don't you see it?! I think they're starting to really like each other!"

He paused and gave her an odd look. "Don't tell me you've still got a thing for Harry."

"No!" said Ginny exasperated. Why wasn't anyone understanding her today? "Don't you see what this can do? If they like each other—ugh!"

"Oh, now I get it," he said sarcastically.

She gave him a look. "I _mean_ that it's all ruined! The circle, our friends. If they start to really like each other, and _don't_ work out, think of the hell we're going to go through! And this is your last year! If Harry and Hermione date, and split up, Ron's taking Harry's side, no doubt, and I'm left to hang out with Hermione."

"What, don't you like her?"

"That didn't come out right," said Ginny. "I love hanging out with her. Believe it or not, when she's not studying she can be fun. But that's not the point. The point is that everything's going to be awkward, we're not going to be able to be one circle. Do you understand?"

Seamus rolled his eyes. "Are you kidding me, Ginny? You pulled me out of the Great Hall, away from _food_, to tell me that you think our circle's going to break apart because Harry and Hermione like each other? Wasn't that a known fact not too long ago?"

Ginny was about to retaliate, but Seamus silenced her.

"Shh," he said, and they remained quiet.

"What?" asked Ginny after a while.

"Thought I heard footsteps," he said nonchalantly.

Ginny brushed it away, and said, "isn't what I told you enough? They were basically _naked_!"

Seamus let out a laugh. "According to your story, _he_ was the one who was _half_ naked, and she was the one on top of him."

"Yeah, _in bed_!" she whispered ferociously.

"Are you jealous?"

"_No_. I'm freaked out and going on a guilt trip. If this goes wrong—"

"Well they're already dating."

"But not _really_. If they start to _really_ date then all hell would break loose and you know it."

"We're not 15 anymore, Ginny. I'm pretty sure we're all mature enough to handle it."

Ginny bit her lip and looked at him. "What if they fall in love?"

Seamus crossed his arms and let out another laugh. "Ginny," he said in a hushed manner. "So what if they do? If Harry and Hermione decide to make babies before graduation—"

"—Seamus!—"

"—We can't do anything about it," he finished. "Now can we _please_ go back and eat? I'm starving."

Bitterly, Ginny let the topic drop and walked back to the Great Hall. "Don't tell anyone, alright? Last thing we need is that whole scene retold by the Gryffindor Gossip Squad."

Seamus opened the door to the Great Hall and looked at her as if she had asked an extremely stupid question, and went in.

Back in the hallway and around the corner, Draco Malfoy was leaning against the wall and breathing hard. He was stiff against it, lost in complete thought and rerunning the whole conversation in his head.

"_.…because Harry and Hermione like each other? Wasn't that a known fact not too long ago?"_

It was the first sentence he heard, and upon hearing Hermione's name mentioned, he decided to listen to the rest. At the moment, though, he really wish he hadn't.

"_According to your story, he was the one who was half naked, and she was the one on top of him."_

"_Yeah, in __**bed**__!"_

Draco nervously put one hand over his mouth and leaned its elbow on his other arm. One part was telling him that Hermione would never do that. Frankly, the girl was a prude. If she _were_ to do that, Prude Rules would have her make sure no one could barge in.

And then there was the other side that told him the freaking _Weasley_ girl saw them, and there was no need for _her_ to lie. Half naked…he knew by experience just what part of Potter needed to be the naked part.

"_If Harry and Hermione decide to make babies before graduation—" _

And that was what really sent his heart racing. There was no other process that required half naked guys to make babies. It was sex, and sex requires more than smiling and talking, and anything that is strictly friend related.

Oh God. Was Hermione, _his_ Hermione, with that scar-faced mistake of nature?

By the Weasley girl's account, there was no doubt about it. Hermione Granger and Harry Potter had been intimate.

Draco didn't even bother asking himself why it bothered him so much. He knew.

* * *

"Here." 

"Flowers?"

"No, zebras," she replied sarcastically.

"What do I want these for?"

Romilda Vane rolled her eyes. "To give them to Granger. Honestly, you're in Ravenclaw?"

He gave her a sour look and took them from her. "So I'm supposed to just go up to her and give these to her," he remarked. "Right in front of Harry Potter."

"That would only work if she were to actually dump him right then and there. But seeing as that's not going to happen, don't. Do it secretly. Girls love secrets."

"Is that why you don't love me? Because I'm not secretly in love with you?"

"Maybe," she shrugged, and realizing her ill move, grinned to make it look as if she had been joking. He bought it.

He always bought it.

* * *

Hermione, Harry, and Ron were each seated on different chairs and sofas in the Heads Common Room. The fire was burning warmly, but each had a sweater on regardless. After all, it was winter, and a draft could enter from anywhere, at anytime, and become the cause of a bad cold. 

Or so preached Hermione.

"Hermione, you look a bit different," said Ron, staring a bit. "Did you gain weight?"

"Uh, maybe?" said Hermione. "I haven't really noticed, but it would be totally awesome if I did!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Women," he mumbled to Ron.

"I heard that!" said Hermione indignantly.

"I just don't get it," he responded. "I thought women wanted to _lose_ weight. Now it turns out they want to _gain_ it?"

"Don't generalize us as if we go under one category, where we all want and think the same things."

"Don't you?" asked Ron.

Hermione shot him a look. "For your information, _no_. If a girl is overweight, she's going to want to lose weight. If a girl is _underweight_, like me, then she's going to want to gain it. Got it? It makes sense."

"It really doesn't," said Ron. "Why can't you all just stop fussing and comparing yourselves to each other and just be happy?"

"Because guys like you make girls like us feel like crap."

Harry laughed, only because the jab was directed at Ron.

"Oh and you girls don't make us feel bad? What with having to be tall and muscular and having to have _hygiene_—"

"That's something _everyone's_ got to have!" said Harry, and Hermione looked triumphantly at Ron.

"And that was a _boy_ that said it."

Ron looked at Harry. "Mate, who's side are you on?"

Harry laughed and raised his hands in surrender. "I just have opinions."

Ron, laughing, threw a nearby cushion at Harry with full force. Harry caught it and put it to the side, grinning.

Hermione adjusted so that she was sitting Indian-style on her chair, and smiled sassily at Ron. "So you think I look different?"

"Huh? Oh yeah. Well a bit."

"I wouldn't say you've gained weight, though," said Harry, much to Hermione's dismay. "I'd say more that you've gained…muscle?"

Ron looked at Harry. "How the heck did you come to _that_ conclusion? She's wearing a sweater and sweatpants for crying out loud!"

"I don't know. I had a harder time calming her down this morn—"

Harry was silenced with a look from Hermione, and realized she dind't want everyone to know she had lost it, even if for only a few seconds.

"Why'd you need to calm her down?" he asked Harry.

Caught in a pickle, Harry turned to Ron and said: "Do you love me?"

"What?" he responded, alarmed.

"Do you like sheep?"

"Sheep?"

"I prefer cattle," said Harry decisively. "Definitely."

"Cattle to sheep?" said Hermione. "I'm sorry but I think sheep are much less of a hassle. And they're cute and cuddly!"

"Oh come on," said Harry. "Cute and cuddly? Is that really the best you can do?"

"Well they are. Are you to tell me that cows and bulls are cute and cuddly?"

"Well, no. But that doesn't mean they aren't better than _sheep_."

"Does too!"

At a look from Harry, Hermione reconsidered. "Okay, fine. Well, sheep are used more often in our world. I mean when do you ever hear of counting cattle before going to bed?"

"Prolly in the Wild-Wild West," laughed Harry.

Hermione laughed too. "Oh, yes! That's coming from a true American."

Ron laughed. "Good God. I wonder if a Wild-Wild West really does exist? It'd be rather wicked."

"It would, wouldn't it?" said Harry. "I wouldn't mind riding horses and carrying around a gun."

"A what?" asked Ron.

"A gun. It's a muggle weapon."

"What level weapon?"

"Mmm," said Hermione in thought. "I'd say about _Cruciatus_ level? Mind you that's muggles not having anything close to St. Mungo's."

"What would be _Avada-Kedavra_ level?"

"Nuclear bombs," said Harry definitively.

"What are those?"

And so, Ron was diverted from his invasive question. But Hermione's going to have to do some explaining to Harry later on.

* * *

Draco Malfoy set his third empty glass back down on the table, and signaled for the bartender to fill it up. With a worried glance, the bartender took his glass and obeyed. He had seen many cases like these, and they hardly ever ended well. 

"What're you looking at?" asked Draco huskily. "Just fill up the damned thing."

"Very well, sir," came the robotic response, and the young man quickly returned with another.

"Might I suggest sir that you drink at a slower pace? Or that you accompany your liquor with absorbing foods such as bread or—"

"And who asked you for suggestions?" asked Draco, glaring angrily at the bartender.

He murmured a quick "I'm sorry sir," and left to attend the next customer.

Draco took a quick look around the place, and couldn't help but smirk at the fact that he didn't fit in at all. It was a nice place, with a nice bar, but it wasn't a drunkard's bar. It was a bar for social drinking. Families sat at tables not to far away, and men sat speaking merrily to each other over a nice margarita.

A _margarita_ for heaven's sake.

But Draco didn't exactly care. He wanted to be where he wouldn't bump into Hogwarts students, and seeing as it was the farthest bar from the school, he found it suitable.

He didn't want a dialogue over a drink, and he didn't want someone he knew to approach him and ask him _anything_. All he wanted to do, as pathetic as it was, was to dwell on what he had discovered.

In his mind, images of Hermione on top of Harry, together, swarmed around and mocked him. They taunted him, permanently engraved in his thoughts for the rest of the night. In no way was he to be capable of ushering them away. _Her_ lips on his, _her_ legs wrapped around _that bastard_, _his_ hands all over _her_.

And none of that would have mattered if that _her_ wasn't Hermione.

Draco picked up his glass and sneered at it. Beer wasn't suitable for such an occasion.

He drank it anyway, gulping the whole thing down without needing a breath of air, or making a mess of himself.

He signaled for the bartender again, who first glanced at the empty glass before walking to Draco. "Another one, sir?"

"No," replied Draco. "No. I don't want beer. Give me a shot of vodka."

The bartender looked intently at Draco. He seemed a bit buzzed, but nothing near dangerous. He took the glass from the table and disappeared. It wasn't long before he returned with the small shot glass.

"Anything else, sir?" asked the young man.

Draco gulped his shot in one go and said: "Yeah. Get me another one."

"Certainly, sir."

While the bartender went to get his another shot, Draco picked up the tiny glass and looked into it.

"This glass is completely empty," he mumbled cynically.

"Here you go sir."

Draco looked up at bartender. He had hazel eyes and black, unruly hair.

"Did anyone ever tell you you look like Harry Potter?"

The bartender was taken aback, more at actually being addressed than anything.

"Uh, no sir. No one, well, except for you."

Draco smirked. "Do you know who I am?"

"Anyone who could recognize platinum blonde hair could recognize a Malfoy."

Draco raised an eyebrow in slight amusement. "In that case you know just how I feel about Harry Potter," he answered. "For looking like him, I'd like to beat you to a bloody pulp."

"I'd really rather you not, sir," said the bartender, placing the tiny shot glass on the table with conviction. "And you should tell me now if you'd rather me bring you five more shots. I really hate making pointless trips."

Draco observed silently, his face stoic. "I like you," he told the bartender. "Get me six more."

Draco easily put down the empty glass and picked up the other one. "Cheers," he said gruffly to the bartender, who had hesitated to get his order, and drank the shot.

"Sickle for your thoughts," came a light, gentle voice beside him.

A tall and slender woman with long black hair had seated herself beside him, exposing her legs with a short black dress.

Draco raised his eyebrow, turning back around to the bartender who was now lining up his drinks.

"Come now, they can't be that bad," she said.

Draco didn't even turn to look at her, and when the bartender left, said: "Isn't it too cold to be wearing skimpy little things like that?"

The girl paused, and then smiled. "Perhaps if you're walking," she stated. "But I don't walk."

"Never learned how to?" said Draco, downing another shot.

"I just never saw the need to if you have a driver," she said easily, nodding her thanks to the bartender for bringing her a drink. She lightly sipped on it, and waited for Draco to say something. When he didn't, she took another sip and looked at him.

"I see the reason you're here's because of a woman."

That made him look at her, taking in another shot. She looked about 25, and Draco couldn't deny that she was a looker.

She looked at the line of shot glasses before meeting his stare. "You plan on having all of those?"

"Yeah."

"And how long will that take?"

"Hopefully forever," he answered bitterly, and turned to have another shot.

"Not at that rate," she said. "Are you going to have more after those?"

"Absolutely."

"May I suggest something?"

Draco picked up another glass and drank it. "No."

The woman got up from her chair, took his second-to-last shot of vodka and drank it. She leaned closely, and placing her lips just above his ear said: "If you want to forget about her, I'll be in room 2_69_," she said, and before Draco could respond, she picked up her purse and left.

He paused for a moment, reflecting.

"Hey," he called at the bartender. "Is this a hotel?"

"No, sir, that's nextdoor." he said. "Anything else?"

Draco shook his head, something that hurt him to do.

Draco hastily drank his last shot of vodka, roughly got up from his seat, swerved, and made his way after her.

* * *

Hermione couldn't concentrate on the novel before her. As interesting as she knows it must be, her mind always made a detour to the Slytherin. 

She looked at her watch. It as 11:15 pm, and she wondered if he was already in his dorm.

She shifted for a more comfortable position and accommodated the blankets to cover her legs completely. She tried to immerse herself in the novel again, but alas there was no hope. Her regret at having 'broken things off' with Draco couldn't let her read in peace.

She needed to find him, just to talk. She needed to make sure that he really didn't want anything to do with her, and then she'd be able to move on. The holidays had been too…amazing. She couldn't let that just go away.

_Yes you can! Embrace the opportunity and let the universe rotate properly again! Slytherins and Gryffindors could never be together!_

Hermione sighed and pulled back the covers, making her way to her closet. She kenw she was ignoring the little bit of logic left in her, but for once, Hermione Granger was going to put away her pride.

She tied her hair up into a quick ponytail and reached for her cloak and scarf. The dungeons were always a cold place to be in.

She checked herself in the mirror, cloak and scarf in hand. It was true, she had changed a bit over the two weeks. She looked…healthier?

Yeah. That was definitely the word. She turned sideways and lifted her nightgown to get a better view of her legs. They were toned now, due to her recent exercise. Her eyes traveled up to her face and she noticed she was smiling, a light blush decorating her cheeks.

In all the years she'd known Harry and Ron, they had never been able to get her to be active. Imagine if they knew that she learned to play Rugby! They'd have a heart-attack.

It was decided. She was going to look for him, and that was that.

With a grin on her face and a load of butterflies in her stomach, Hermione wrapped the scarf around herself, put on her cloak and left.

Draco had taken her to the dungeons once before, and it took her a good twenty minutes to get on the right track. By then, the poor girl was truly shivering. Half was due to the weather, and the dimness of the Slytherin environment. The other half was due to her nervousness.

What if Draco was in bed sleeping soundly? He might very well be snoring, completely peaceful at mind, in which this trek would then be pointless.

What if she got caught? What would she say? Hallway checks? Yeah, that seemed okay.

Her heart was beating loudly. This was one of the few unpredictable things she's done. Well, there was the whole Draco business, but he initiated those. This little journey was all her idea.

Hermione began to hear a distant murmur, a buzzing noise that told her people were coming. She halted. The hallways were dark, and she knew that whoever would find her would be A) a Slytherin, and B)A Slytherin that would love to get her in trouble.

She looked around anxiously for any hiding place at all. She saw a niche where a knight was, and maneuvered her way behind him. She stayed still, hardly daring to breathe.

"Blaise Zabini wasn't on the train today. I wonder how he's going to get to Hogwarts."

"There are ways."

"I just thing it's weird. And then I saw Malfoy leave the castle earlier today, around lunchtime, and I haven't seen him since."

"Probably off doing some Death Eater work. You know how our house is. It's completely infested with them."

"He looked pretty upset, if you asked me. Bothered and completely unapproachable. I would know, he shoved me on his way out."

Hermione could hear no more. They had walked around the corner and out of hearing distance, completely oblivious to the Gryffindor in their territory.

Hermione breathed. If ever she was to be found by a pair of Slytherins, that did not include Draco, she would want it to be those two.

She climbed out of her hiding spot as quietly as possible, squinting her eyes and straining her ears for any other person.

"Ugh," she whispered to herself. "How can anyone live here?"

"Well, it's good thing you don't have to, Miss Granger."

Hermione's breath hitched in her throat as she spun around, her heart beating quickly. Her eyes landed on Nearly-Headless Nick, who's body was half inside the stone wall.

"Dear God, you scared me!"

"Serves you right," he whispered back, amused. "What business does the Head Girl have wandering about Slytherin?"

Hermione glared at him. "Oh be quiet, you old fool."

He laughed at her.

"What is the ghost of Gryffindor doing in Slytherin, then?" she asked saucily.

Nearly-Headless-Nick gave her a look. "Does it matter? If I were living, I wouldn't be caught dead here."

Hermione sighed. "Especially if you're a Gryffindor."

"Exactly. Now who are you looking for, my dear?"

"Someone in Slytherin. Do I need to say more?"

He pursed his lips in thought, and finally came out of the wall. "You know I don't know the password to their common room."

"I don't want that," said Hermione, the wheels in her head turning. "But say, for example, that someone had left the castle, and needed to get in after hours. Where would be the best way to sneak back in if you were a Slytherin?"

Nearly-Headless Nick smiled. "Now _that_ is something I could help you with."

* * *

Draco leaned against the tree, one hand against the trunk and the other holding a half empty bottle of God Knows what, he couldn't remember. All he knew was that so far he had managed to make it to Hogwarts grounds without puking, but he couldn't promise the rest of the way to Slytherin Common Rooms would go as well. 

He pushed himself off the tree and began stumbling his way to the castle doors. The wind was cold and fierce, but he didn't feel a thing except for nausea, and he really didn't think it was because of the liquor.

Okay, maybe it was.

He lost his footing twice times and fell to his knees, shuffling to rise again.

"I'm gonna feel this tomorrow," he slurred to himself. Finally having reached the castle doors, he used all his power and might to pull it open.

The castle was quiet and dark. Draco made his way towards a dim torch and looked at his watch. It was two in the morning, and Draco groaned to himself. He prayed that no one found him like this. Especially Snape. He'd kill him.

Draco continued to walk towards the dormitories, stumbling and supporting himself against the walls every now and then.

He turned the hallway, walking straight down to the door at the end of the corridor, where he would be able to get to Slytherin quickly.

"Wretched night," he murmured to himself. "Horrible first of many," he promised, nodding his head in agreement.

He pulled back the door, and to his surprise, there, seated on the cold floor with her head against the wall, sleeping, was the very cause of his distraught.

He looked next to her, at the long set of stairs leading down to the dungeons, and figuring her to be a fragment of his imagination, started for them.

But stairs were too advanced of a challenge for a person as drunk as he was, and at the third stair, he slipped. In order to catch himself, he let go of the bottle, letting it clash down the rest of the stairs till at last, it crashed to pieces at the bottom.

The ruckus woke Hermione with a start, and Draco groaned inwardly at the loss of the liquor.

"Draco," she breathed. "I—you're here."

He turned around to Hermione, surprised that she was, indeed, really there.

"What in bloody Merlin are you doing here?"

"Well I was waiting for you to come back," she said. "What time is it?"

He looked at her for a second, and almost allowed himself to be happy before remembering why he had decided to hate her for the rest of his life.

"It's late," he answered gruffly. "Go to bed."

The pang of sadness was immediate, and the feeling of rejection was slowly burning a whole through her heart.

Draco turned around and started to walk down the stairs.

"Draco," she called after him. He stopped, the sound of his name ushering from her lips sent a familiar warmth throughout his body.

He rejected the feeling altogether, and looking over his shoulder, said "Go fuck your little boyfriend, Granger."

Hermione grew in height out of offense, briefly wondering where that had come from.

"I don't have a boyfriend," she said quietly. "Look, Dra—Malfoy," she took a deep breath, "I just need to ask you one thing. Just one thing, and then you can go on your merry way and do whoever you want."

He humored her, and turned around to look up at her. He waited.

Feeling all attention on her, Hermione drew a quivering breath. In all her rehearsal, she hadn't gotten past getting him to listen to her one question.

She drew a quivering breath, and let it out. She looked down at him, and asked in a quiet voice: "Did you plan it all?"

"Plan what?"

"Leaving…well…cutting all communication between us."

He looked at her harshly. "Yes."

"So the holidays," continued Hermione in a quiet voice. "They were…nothing? To you?"

Draco kept the stare but remained silent, debating whether he should tell her the truth or not.

"The holidays were wonderful," said Draco, and turned to walk down the stairs.

"Then why do you want to forget about them? Why do you want to throw me to the side as if I never existed?"

"Granger, you were only allowed one question," he said turning around. "I've answered two."

"Stop calling me Granger," she said agitatedly. "I know you, you know me. You call me Hermione."

Draco, agitated at being told what to do, went up the stairs, hoping to intimidate her. "I call you whatever the fuck I want to call you," he answered.

Hermione had taken a step forward, allowing Draco to come only as far as one stair below her. "Go ahead, but I don't promise to respond," she said.

"You talk when spoken to, and I promise that'll be rare from this point forward," he whispered to her face.

"You're drunk," she stated in realization, taking a step back. "Where were you?"

He took the final step up and snarled. "None of your fucking business."

"Nice vocabulary tonight, Malfoy," said Hermione, taking another step backwards. "Learned that at the pub or at home?"

"Why don't you keep your bad insults to yourself, Granger?" He narrowed his eyes at her. "And get the fuck out of my territory," he said, before spitting in her face.

Hermione screamed in disgust, wiping the spit off her face before shoving him. "You bastard!" she breathed, absolutely vivid. "You good for nothing piece of shit!"

"Ho-ho! She swears!" he said sarcastically, catching a flying fist to his face.

Only then, as his control of her wrist cause her to come into the light, did he see her tear-streaked face. He smirked. "Crying, little one?"

She let out a light sob. She could have kicked herself for it, but she couldn't help it. What she could help was being seen. So with all her might, she wrung her wrist out of his grip and made a dash for the door.

But he was a quick one, even drunk, and closed the door before it was open enough to let her pass.

He took hold of her elbow and threw her against the wall. Turning to her, he sneered "You're crying, Granger? _You're_ crying?"

Hermione clenched her jaw and roughly wiped away her tears. "Fuck off, Malfoy. You've made everything clear enough."

"Made what clear?" he asked, inches from her face. "That you were nothing but a fling? Is that what I made clear?"

She didn't even answer. She couldn't.

She tried to make it past him, but he blocked her way.

"You're the one that left _me_ out there yesterday, and _you_ feel like a holiday fling?"

Hermione didn't look at him. She was far too mad, and figured that he'd have to finish sometime, and it would be then when she could leave.

"And to top that, you screw Potter the day he comes back, and _you're_ the victim, right?"

At that Hermione's head snapped up to meet his. "What?" she asked. "I _what?_"

He smirked. "Didn't think I knew?"

"Who the bloody hell told you _that_?"

"She-Weasley," he answered, sneering. "Can't contradict her now can you? She walked in on you two."

"Fighting for the covers," she said, disturbed.

"And I assume you two do that on a daily basis…_naked_."

"_What_? He was only topless. _I_ had _all_ of my clothes on."

"You expect me to believe this crap, Granger?" he asked.

"I don't care if you believe me or not, _Malfoy_. Frankly, I couldn't care less if you ever spoke to me at all. But I did _not_ have sex with Harry Potter."

He studied her, his mind racing. He had just spent his whole night dwelling on that fact, and even rejected a lay when it came down to it, all because he heard she had slept with Potter.

"You didn't sleep with Potter," he tested.

Hermione just rolled her eyes and pushed him off. "I was _going_ to," she said. "But by sleep I mean just that. Sleep. I didn't want to go downstairs to lunch, and he didn't want to go to his room. We share a bed every now and then. Harry's like my brother. I've explained this to you before."

She made her way to the door.

"But after spitting in my face?" she stated, her voice a little weak. "I never want to see you again."

"Hermione wait," he said, rushed. But she didn't wait. She opened the door and left a very agitated, very drunk Draco.

He felt his stomach drop in regret, and only then did he double over to vomit.

He was a stupid, stupid man.

And he'd be damned if he didn't get her back. He knew, from the very moment he saw her walk through the threshold without shoes, determined to never speak to him again, that he loved her.

Draco Malfoy had fallen in love.

* * *

**A.N: **I know. You're all about ready to kill me, I know. But I have been busy! I just finished applying to colleges...and now I have to fill out other stuff! It's neverending. But I got it in, didn't I? And it wasn't that bad.

Honestly, if it weren't for the reviews I'd abandon this story and pick it up again when I'm retired. I'm such an over-achiever, it's ridiculous. Please, forgive!!

And please, review! The more reviews, the more I write!

Tell me what you think, and what I can improve...other than my updating speed.

PLEASE!!

THANK YOU. I hope you enjoyed.


	24. An End and A Beginning

**Chapter 24: An End and A Beginning**

Draco sat at the very end of the library, hidden behind a very dusty bookshelf loaded with rejected novels and old textbooks whose information was no longer valid. Why the stupid librarian kept such books was beyond him, but at the moment they served a purpose: concealing him from view.

Yes, Draco Malfoy needed time alone. It wasn't because he was tired of social interaction, or because he was loaded with work. As a matter of fact, senioritis had invaded the seventh years with such power that some teachers held back on long, meticulous assignments. There were fewer essays and more short-answer questions assigned. Even Snape, upon seeing better weather approaching and less homework handed in on time, conceded to just one essay a week. So no, school work was not the cause of his recent stress. The ineffectiveness at everything he attempted lately, however, would be right on point.

It was the beginning of March, the Second to be exact, and Hermione Granger had not uttered a single word to him. Not even a bloody insult. And, again due to the fierce senioritis that has attacked his year, no projects have been assigned since the new semester started, including group projects where he might just be paired off with her. It certainly happened when he _didn't_ want to work with her, why wouldn't it happen now?

And to add onto all of that frustration, that anger at his own pathetic self, he's had a daily dose of angst as of the past three to four weeks. It was a looming and demanding presence. To attempt to ignore it was like Peter Pan trying to ignore his teasing shadow. From the moment he woke up and looked over to the empty bed next to his, to the moment he went back to it at the end of the day, Draco couldn't stop wondering where in the bloody hell Blaise could be.

During the first week back, Draco really didn't pay much mind to it. He clearly remembered Blaise told him he was off to handle some business, and he knew more than anyone that that could take it's time. But once January came to an end, and no letter came from Blaise, Draco began to worry.

_Yes,_ he worried. Regardless of everything, Blaise was his best friend; his partner in crime. It just wasn't the same storming through the hallways without him. And Draco knew for a fact that Blaise would never miss so much school. Despite it all, Hogwarts was something to do, somewhere to be; and Blaise had fun at school. Loads of fun.

Teachers have approached him, and even Dumbledore called him up to his office during February, wondering if he knew anything about his whereabouts. That night, Draco couldn't have slept even if Madame Pomfrey had given him five sleeping droughts. It was one thing when he didn't know, or when the teachers were being nosey bastards and pestering him with questions, but when _Dumbledore_ doesn't know, that's when you know something's not right.

And something definitely wasn't right. It was the Second of_ March_ for crying out loud, and there wasn't a single letter from Blaise, or a single word from Hermione Granger. Yes, Draco Malfoy needed time alone. He needed to _think_.

He needed a plan. If he could just muster up a plan, he'd be okay. A plan to get Hermione back and a plan to find Blaise. A plan.

He'd never be able to think up of a plan for either. The truth was that he was sitting in the back of the library, behind the old and dusty bookshelf, hiding so that he could _dwell_. Yes, he was dwelling like a woman during her midlife crisis. Or like a girl after her first breakup. The only difference he could think up of was the food. He wasn't exactly eating his emotions; he was perhaps starving them.

Draco Malfoy hadn't eaten properly since his last encounter with Hermione. And after the visit with Dumbledore, he had to be reminded to eat Breakfast and lunch usually went ignored, and though he'd attend dinner, he usually just pushed around his food.

Nobody really asked him questions. After all, he was still Slytherin King. Nobody really asked him if he felt alright, or if he needed a healing tea. He briefly wondered if it was because no one cared, and then he remembered an incident with Pansy. She had sat next to him during Charms and asked him how he was holding up without Blaise.

"Fine," he had said.

"You don't look too well, Draco," she whispered. "Maybe you should go to the hospital wing after this. I'll go with you."

"I rather you go to hell and leave me alone," he had said, not even bothering to look at her.

She had smiled at that moment, and looked around her before leaning in and whispering: "That's exactly what you are. Alone."

It was shocking to say the least. No one had spoken to him like that in _years_. And frankly, Pansy had _never_. She had had her moments, but she always fumbled an apology afterwards. But as Draco turned to look at her, slight triumph written all over that Slytherin smirk, he knew he wouldn't be getting one of those this time. Part of him wanted to put her in her place (probably the Slytherin King in him) and the other part couldn't care less.

There were only two good things that happened since he had last _really_ spoken with Hermione. One was that he has paid more attention to school, and the other was that Hermione had broken up with Potter. Sure they had never been really dating and what not, and they hadn't really had sex like he was led to believe by the stupid Weaslette (to whom he had been extra harsh with during the end of January, shoving her in the hallways and _always_ making a comment) but he still got jealous every once in a while.

Not only was he the lucky bastard that got to be her best friend, room with her, but he also got to "date" her. What he wouldn't give to just pretend to date her. He'd really take advantage of that in public, when they were supposed to be "pretending". He'd kiss her all the time. He'd just grab that little face of hers and smother those lips—

Oh no. He was _not_ having a romantic fantasy. This was definitely rock bottom for Draco Malfoy.

He put down the quill he had been twirling in thought, leaned back and shrunk down in his chair. He buried his face in his hands and groaned.

What. The. Fuck.

He slid his hands to his hair, which had not been at its best for some time now. His gold locks now reached the awkward length of the middle of his neck, and for some reason his terribly straight hair was growing some waves.

_Waves._

And, of course, there was no gel. It wasn't long enough for a pony tail, and too long to be left alone. Draco Malfoy hadn't gotten a haircut since the new semester started, and the result was disastrous.

Disastrous was probably too harsh. He could easily pass for an American surfer, except that he didn't have that tan. He had a rugged look to him, like a rare but exquisite wild animal. A lion would have been perfect, except that he would never in his life be compared to one.

Because no matter what, Draco Malfoy was, and would always be, a Slytherin.

* * *

"What!" squealed Hermione.

"Please understand—"

"Understand _what_, Harry? I can't _believe_ this!"

"Come on, now, Hermione," he begged.

Hermione just nodded her head in disbelief, refusing to look at him. When Harry purposely moved to be in her view, she would just turn around in the comfy chair of the heads common room.

"_Hermione_," he whined.

"Harry," she said, looking at him. "I can't believe…is it even possible?"

Harry gave her a rueful smile. "Yeah, it is. I already talked to Dumbledore about it."

"You _what_!" she shouted, and shoved him away so that she could get off the chair. "You're the worst! The absolute—ugh! How _could_ you! So it's official, right?"

"Pretty much?" offered Harry.

"And you didn't even _ask_ me? What the **fuck**, Harry," she said spitefully, flinging a random cushion at the floor. "How can you do this? And all for that stupid little—brat."

Harry, who stood up when Hermione pushed him away, now plopped on the nearest sofa and groaned. "Hermio_ne_."

"No," she said. "Uh-uh. Don't you 'Hermione' me, Potter. You're an **asshole** for doing this to me."

"Hey," he protested weakly. "Isn't that a bit harsh?"

Hermione would have protested his protest, but her throat had suddenly constricted, and her nose was suddenly stinging. She managed to cross her arms in a huff and turn around before the first tear touched her cheek.

"Oh no," he groaned. "Please don't, Hermione," he said, getting up. "You're blowing it out of proportion, I promise you that."

Hermione turned violently around. "Blowing it out of proportion! Really, Harry? You're _leaving_ me!"

Harry gave her a dry smile. "Well we broke up a while ago—"

"You're not funny," she spat.

Harry slouched his shoulders and looked at her tiredly. "Please don't act as if I'm never going to see you again."

Hermione's jaw dropped, letting out a sarcastic laugh. "That's _exactly_ it, Harry."

"No it's not."

"Yes," she laughed, more tears flowing down her face. "It actually is, Harry. It's one thing when you start seeing someone and you no longer have as much time for your friends as you used to—which, by the way, _never_ happened before—but it's something completely different when you start _canceling_ plans and _ditching_ to spend all your time with _her_."

"I thought you of all people would understand me," he said, stung.

"I was willing to," said Hermione. "But this is just taking it too far."

"She _asked_ me to. And, well, I wanted to."

"We hardly talk anymore," said Hermione quickly. "We're just going to talk less if you move to Gryfindor. We won't have the nightly talks, and we're not going to even going to be able to sleep over, and I'm going to be so _bored_ all by myself!"

Harry at this point thought it suitable to look at the floor and bite his lip. Hermione, after a few seconds of silence, caught on. "I _will_ be by myself, right?"

Harry didn't respond at first, and then sighed and said the heavy "No."

They remained silent for a couple of moments, and Hermione had managed to compose herself. The minutes passed. Harry had sunk himself into the chair closest to the fireplace, his elbow on his knee and his hand supporting his chin.

Hermione, feeling abandoned and completely betrayed, turned to Harry. "I'm going to ask you this once, Harry," she said. "Please stay with me. I'm not in love with you, and I won't interfere with you and Parvati, but _please_, please stay. Harry," she whispered.

"Hermione, it's already done."

"But," she said quietly, "you're my only friend."

Harry quickly rose from his chair at that. Something about that truth made him look inhuman leaving her. It made him uncomfortable.

"Everyone else makes fun of me. They talk behind my back, and even if they only do it to joke around, no one understands me like you do. I know this sounds sickeningly dramatic, but you're the only one I've been able to really rely on."

"Hermione, we're still going to be friends. Best friends. Parvati's not taking your place, if that's what you're scared of."

"Don't make me sound so bratty," said Hermione sourly. "All I'm saying is that if we hardly talked during the time you actually slept here, imagine how much we're to talk while you're in Gryffindor."

"I'm still Head Boy, Hermione," he said. "I'm not giving up the title, just the living arrangements."

"And who's going to take up your living arrangements, then?" said Hermione.

Harry hesitated, and then flashed her a big smile. "The next deserving candidate of course."

For a moment, Hermione felt assured by his smile, until it faltered. Then her wheels started turning, working out all possibilities. But in the need to know, and the need to know _now_, she gave Harry a weak smile and asked "Well? Who is it?"

Harry faltered again, and gave her another big smile before rubbing the back of his neck. He took in a deep breath. "Malfoy?"

Hermione's jaw dropped, and the tears sprouted automatically and without warning. "Oh my _God_!"

Harry started at the intense reaction, and rushed towards her. She buried her face in her hands, plopped onto the nearest chair, and began to sob.

"Hermione!" said Harry. "Come on it's not that serious. He hasn't bothered you in _weeks_." He knelt down in front of her and tried to pry her hands off her face, but she just grabbed a cushion and buried her face in that.

"Look, if Malfoy still bothered you like he used to, I would have _never_ agreed to it. I'd never do that to you, you know that. But if anyone could handle Malfoy, it's you."

Hermione's response was a passionate sob, and Harry couldn't have felt more horrible, guilty, or useless. She mumbled something incomprehensible, surely insults at him, but they were muffled with the cushion.

"Look," promised Harry. "If he ever does anything to you, Hermione. If he ever hurts you in any way, just tell me and I'll make sure he regrets it. Frankly I don't think he's much up for any talking with Zabini gone. He's looking pretty messed up lately. Like he's sour at life or something, so honestly, I don't think you've got anything to worry about."

At that, Hermione lifted her face from the pillow, and slapped him with all her might.

"**How could you do this! How could you **_**ever**_** agree to something like that!!**"

"Hermi—"

"I HATE YOU!" she screamed. "YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU JUST DID! YOU'RE THE STUPIDEST FUCKING BOY THAT EVER LIVED!!!"

"Hermione!**" **he said, confused.

"WHAT HAPPENED TO ALL THOSE TIMES YOU TOLD ME TO STAY AWAY? I LISTENED, I **LISTENED**," she sobbed. "HOW COULD YOU EVEN **THINK**THIS WOULD BE OKAY?"

Harry opened his mouth, but in the face of her passion, was at a complete loss for words. Seeing that he wasn't going to respond, Hermione let out another fierce "I HATE YOU!" before dissolving completely into her cushion again.

Harry, feeling at his all-time low, went to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off.

"Hermione, take it back," said Harry. "He's not going to do anything to you, I promise. He won't. Come on," he said after some silence. "You don't hate me."

Hermione lifted her head, her face flushed with despair, eyes swollen and nose pink. "If you pack your trunk today, Harry, if you leave to let Malfoy in, I will never forgive you. Did you hear me? Never."

"Hermione it's already set!"

"Nothing is set in _stone_!" she yelled. "You could always go back to Dumbledore and tell him you've changed your mind!"

"I can't do that Hermione. If it were that easy I would have gone to do that the _second_ you started crying."

Hermione's eyes flooded again, and she looked away from Harry.

"I don't get it, Harry," she whispered. "You have more privacy here."

"It's definitely not about that. We just want to be closer to each other."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You make me sick," she said, getting up and walking to the staircase.

"I love her!" shouted Harry.

Hermione spun around, hand on the railing. "IT'S BEEN TWO BLOODY MONTHS! BE REALISTIC!"

"It's different with her!"

"You mean _this_ time around! It's not like you haven't done her before," she said spitefully, turning to walk up the stairs. "And her sister."

"Hermione!" he shouted after her, and after a moment's contemplation, calmed down and simply said: "Nothing will change."

"Whatever," she mumbled, more tears falling.

"It's not like you haven't been different yourself Hermione," he called after her. "Ever since the holidays ended you've been in some weird daze. Depressed at random times, giving me no explanation! What the hell, Hermione, you don't even tell me anything anymore!"

Hermione had reached her door. She would have responded in some way, but all she was able to do was let out a quiet sob. She turned to look at him and held his stare for a moment, before she opened her door and went in.

* * *

Terry Boot was in a pickle. Ever since Harry Potter and Hermione Granger broke up, his "job" had been over. Sure, he wasn't the _cause_ of their break up, but the important thing was that they broke up, period. The rumor was that he had been seeing Parvati Patil before the actual separation, and that that was why she broke up with him. But they said that they had simply decided they were better off as friends.

So now Harry Potter was free, and Romilda gave it her best shot to be the next one on his list. But, again, the Patil girl was his girlfriend and by the looks of it, he was in love. But God forbid you tell Romilda that. Now, what does she want from him? She wants him to go after Patil.

"But you did such a good job with Granger, baby. Why not do me this one favor with Parvati Patil?"

He wasn't stupid. He was in love, which is probably a synonym, but not so blindly as to not know real from fake. Romilda Vane would never love him in return. Her capricious heart would always remain with what's-his-face Potter. It was such a Rhett Butler-Scarlet O'Hara story. He could fantasize all he wanted about Romilda finally realizing that she loves him, but he knew it would never happen.

And surprisingly enough, after their breakup, Terry and Hermione continued to talk to each other. Without the pressure of having to conquer her heart, he was at ease with just being her acquaintance. A "Hey Terry, how's everything?" here and a "Stop by the library if you need any help" there. Nothing compromising. And it seemed that she liked it better that way as well.

And he had to say, he didn't know she was that funny. Not that she knew any jokes, because he did ask her once, but in the way she reacted to some things, and the comments she'd make on daily life, well, they were funny.

"Oh, if you think _I'm_ funny, you've got to see Ron and Harry in their natural habitat."

All in all, Hermione Granger was a nice girl; a good girl. He was glad his plot had come to nothing. He'd have really hated to hurt her, even though it seems she didn't really like Harry anyway.

So, Terry Boot finally saw a flaw in Romilda Vane. He still loved her, but he just couldn't understand how she could be so selfish, so cold-hearted, as to hurt _Hermione_. She's probably the only girl that doesn't belong to a clan of other girls, It was actually really cool that she hung out with guys and knew about Rugby. I mean _Rugby_ for crying out loud! He had always doubted any muggle girl knew the sport existed.

But she would never talk about it _much_. Every time she started, she'd eventually glaze over and change the subject.

So she had secrets.

To him, it made her all the more intriguing. Was he beginning to really like her? She was nice, kind, and pretty. But she wasn't Romilda Vane, and it was _she_ whom he loved.

So: listen to the girl he loved, even though she was just using him? Or, realize that she'll never love him and try to move on with another girl that has caught his eye.

Why was he even asking? He knew his heart would say one thing and his mind would shout another.

And for some reason, that afternoon, as he sat in his Divination class playing with his quill, he chose to ignore his heart and listen to his brain (for once). He was going to give Hermione Granger a shot.

* * *

Harry walked into Gryffindor at around four in the afternoon, his trunk floating behind him, much to the surprise of everyone.

"Harry!" said Ginny, nervously, "We didn't expect you till tonight."

Harry turned to look at her, but didn't stop walking towards the boy's dormitories. "If you're planning a welcoming party, cancel it. I'm not in the mood."

He didn't see her reaction, having started up the stairs, but he could imagine it. Ginny was pretty open with her feelings, and after years, you sort of know what to expect.

Harry finally made it to the seventh year's floor, and walked straight to his room, barely nodding at the welcoming gestures of his fellow mates.

"Harry?" said Ron, when he saw him come in and settle his trunk by the bed labeled 'Potter'. "What are you doing here so early?"

Harry opened his trunk and started pulling out all of his uniforms, hanging them up at a nearby closet.

Ron gave him a sympathetic look. "She didn't take it too well, did she?"

"She took it horribly, as a matter of fact," said Harry heavily. "I swear, if I had _known_…"

"She'll get over it, mate. She sorta has to."

"And why is that?" asked Harry, kneeling before his trunk. "Because I'm her only friend?"

"That's a bit extreme," stated Ron. "Did she say that?"

"Yeah," said Harry, rummaging through his trunk pointlessly.

"She has friends, Harry," he assured. "It's just that you're her _best_ one, so eventually she's going to miss you and she'll get over it. She's a _girl_, Harry. They're full of empty threats and apologies."

Harry stopped what he was doing and turned around to Ron. "She _cried_."

"Get out," said Ron.

"Yep," said Harry. "And I mean _really_ cry. None of that tearing up crap. And you should've _seen_ her when I told her Malfoy would be taking up the residence."

Ron furrowed his eyebrows. "What, did it bother her?"

"You have no idea how badly it hit her."

"But he doesn't even bother her anymore."

"That's what I said, and you know what I got in return? A slap."

"_Get out_."

"Yeah," said Harry, turning to sit against his trunk. He placed his elbows on knees, and leaned his head back. "She took it bad."

"So you left early?"

"I can't stand it when she can't stand me."

"So you left."

"Clearly," said Harry pointedly.

Ron sighed. "Like I said, mate. Regardless of everything, Hermione's still a girl. She's not going to _never_ talk to you again."

Harry rolled his head to look at him and said "She swore to never forgive me if I left to let Malfoy in."

"Typical girl threat. Tomorrow, Hermione will come up to you during dinner and ask to speak with you privately. Then, she'll want to apologize for all the mean things she's said and the slap. I'm telling you, everything will be fine."

"I wish I could believe you, Ron. But you didn't see her. You didn't see her."

* * *

Three weeks had passed since Malfoy had moved into Harry's room, and Hermione was getting impatient. Malfoy hadn't uttered a single word to her.

For some reason, she had pictured it incredibly different. He would pursue her religiously, begging for forgiveness, doing many things to prove himself to her. And she, of course being the firm young lady that she was, would resist all temptation and tell him off. _No one_ spits on her face.

He had done just that for so long! Immediately after the incident, he would run to catch up with her, get her alone in the hallways, wait to catch her doing her hallway checks, everything! And he would repeatedly try to explain how sorry he was, what had happened that night, and how he had gone through hell by the time he had spoken with her. In all that time, she hadn't said a single word. She could have told him to go to hell, but not even that. She pretended he wasn't there, and that bothered him all the more.

Sometime during February, he had stopped trying so hard. She was relieved in a way. She had always been scared Harry and Ron would walk in on one of Draco's lengthy explanations.

And now, his tactics came to a complete end. Now that he was so close!

She wasn't going to lie. She hated Malfoy. And she still hated Harry for leaving her. She really had not wanted Malfoy to talk to her. She hadn't wanted to see him or hear him…anything. When Harry announced he'd be leaving and Malfoy would take his place, the world around her seemed to crumble. In all truth, she had been perfectly fine when he was starting not to talk to her. This was before he moved in.

But now, now that he was just one room away, unwanted feelings invaded her heart every now and then. Stupid memories of the winter days spent with him crept into her mind, and the passionate kisses during the Rugby games, the ones after the Rugby games, the study sessions, the house…

_Why_ wasn't he trying to talk to her?

Hermione was positive that if she weren't so lonely (not talking to Harry and all) she would not be thinking about _him_ so much. But as it was, she was without a best friend, and Ginny was annoyingly too popular to hang out with. You had to be in a very social mood when you were around Ginny.

However, she was still lonely; and loneliness was a horrible creature, stinging at night when you were most vulnerable.

And so, it was the night of the eighteenth of March, and in all her lonely bitterness, she marched out of her room, down the stairs, and up the other to Draco's room. With an impatient hand, she knocked on his door. It was a rushed knock, demanding in every sense. It was nothing inviting.

The door opened, revealing a very startled, long-haired Draco. His appearance startled her at first, and all she could do was look at him. He looked worn, so disheveled it was almost wild. Exquisitely wild, though, and Hermione wondered if there would ever be anything or anyone that could take away his elegance.

Draco looked at her, not believing the sight before him. He knew no one else _could _knock on his door other than her, but he hadn't dared to get his hopes up. With his luck, it was Snape or something.

But it wasn't. It was Hermione, and the surprise that his bad luck had failed was visible on his face. His furiously pounding heart resonated in his ears, and his stomach was currently under a butterfly attack.

And yet, Draco Malfoy kept a cool exterior. He wasn't shooting ice-darts from his eyes, but he did keep an unwavering stare on her, waiting for whatever it was she had come to tell him.

But, cool exterior and all, nothing could have prepared him for what happened next, though he definitely should have seen it coming. She spat on his face.

Draco mentally cursed himself for thinking she'd _say_ something, and easily wiped the spit off his face with his sleeve. He went back to looking at her, hand still on doorknob.

She was breathing rapidly, and then, for reasons she didn't care to know, she took a step forward, grabbed his face, and kissed him.

He responded immediately, releasing the doorknob and wrapping his arms tightly around her slender form. He had waited so long.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, marveling at the familiar feeling of his tongue exploring her mouth. She pulled back, but he followed. There was no way he'd let go so soon.

He put a hand behind her head, as gentle as his fervor could allow, and with his other hand, tugged at her thigh. Hermione took the invitation and, with his help, hoisted herself onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist.

He held her, and walked backwards into his room, closing the door with his foot and then pressing Hermione against it. With the door supporting Hermione, Draco began tugging her blouse out of her skirt and unbuttoning it.

Hermione let out a small moan and tangled her hands in his silky-soft hair. She could feel his expertise in the quickness of his maneuvers, and in the way he caressed her exposed skin. She hadn't known how much she had missed him till now. This wasn't just about the physical desire, she knew it. She felt it in his kiss. He had missed her just as much.

He pulled away, breathing hard, and looked at her. He smirked.

"Does this mean you forgive me?"

Hermione, also breathing hard, was at first confused at the interruption, but recovered quickly.

"Yes, I suppose it does, doesn't it?"

Draco set her on her feet, and looked at her intently, his hands on her bare waist.

"Hermione," he began. "I was a jackass."

She smiled, and was about to say something when Draco said: "Let me finish."

He kissed her quickly on the lips and said: "The time I spent with you during the holidays made up for every single bad moment in my life. I," he paused, at loss for words. "I've never _said_ I felt so strongly for a girl, and have actually meant it. Hermione I," he paused again. "I've missed you like hell."

Hermione reached for his long hair and said "I can tell."

"You could just admit you missed me too," he said slyly.

"And why would I lie like that?" she quipped.

"Because it would explain why you came knocking on my door."

Hermione retrieved her hand. "Right," she said lamely.

He laughed, and after a couple of moments of silence, spoke.

"We weren't going to have sex, were we?" he asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "In your dreams, perhaps."

"Yeah I thought so," he said.

"Not that you were going to try to, _right_?" she asked pointedly.

He smirked at her. "I'm sorry to tell you that my intentions with you are completely dishonorable."

Hermione looked down at her exposed bra. "I kinda figured," she said, gently pushing Draco far enough to start buttoning up her blouse.

Draco watched her in the process. "I could shoot myself right now," he announced.

Hermione looked up at him and laughed. "Why?"

"Because you wouldn't be doing that if I had kept my mouth shut."

Hermione wrinkled her nose at him. "It just proves that you _care_."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Don't let it get to your head."

"Oh please," said Hermione. "You caring for me is nothing a Gryffindor should be proud of."

She had finished buttoning her blouse, and looked up at him. "But for the record, I unfortunately care very, very much for you."

"So," tested Draco. "If I were to ask you to be my girlfriend, you'd _say_…"

Hermione smirked. "That I'll think about it," she said sassily, and turned around to open the door.

"Where are you going?" asked Draco.

"I've taken a long enough detour. I need to get back to studying," she called back.

"What a way to make me feel used," he stated, crossing his arms and leaning against the threshold. "Just keep in mind that you can use me whenever you want."

Hermione turned around, grinning for the first time in months. "Will do."

Draco watched her until she walked into her room, and then retrieved into his. He had finally figured her out.

You couldn't force Hermione into anything. If you wanted her, you had to wait for her, and you better be patient. Leave a couple of encouraging hints here and there, but you can't demand her. You could never demand her.

Draco, who also hadn't smiled in months, grinned. Now, he could go back to being his usual self, and the first step to that was, he noted as he looked in the mirror, to cut his hair. He was long overdue.

If only Blaise were back.

* * *

**A.N:** Ha ha!! SURPRISE!! I've had this week off so I updated. FINALLY, right? Took these two a freaking WHILE.

Well now since you all love me for updating in RECORD TIME, could you please, please, PLEASE review? I worked hard on this, and I just want to read your reactions, opinions, THOUGHTS.

Please Review!!

:D


	25. Taking the Dark Side

Chapter 25:

**NT**

**Chapter 25**:

Spring was the season of balance. The weather was never too cold or too hot. Unfortunately it was often wet, but Harry saw it as a way of nature making up for all the days that it was dry. Balance was good.

A gust of fresh wind blew across the grounds of Hogwarts, and in spite of themselves, many students smiled, but not Harry. As his head rested on Parvati's lap and her fingers brushed swiftly through his hair, he had to admit he wasn't happy.

It had been one whole month since he had left the Head's Common room, and Hermione still refused to speak with him. At first, he didn't bother her. Betting on Ron's intuition, he thought Hermione might approach him and talk. He definitely thought they'd be talking by now, and Ron wouldn't shut up about how he knew Hermione wasn't normal. Any _normal_ girl would have done exactly what he predicted by _now_.

When the second week had gone by, Harry's patience had worn thin. It wasn't even the fact that she was giving him the silent treatment, it was the fact she was looking thinner and more worn out every day. Every morning at breakfast it looked like she hadn't had five whole minutes of sleep. Harry vaguely wondered if Malfoy had been making her life hell, but from what he could see, they didn't even talk to each other during class.

So, being the good friend that he was, he decided to approach her. After Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry told Parvati to wait for him down the hall and went after Hermione, who was quickly walking to her next class.

"Herimione," he had called, but she simply clutched her books tighter to her chest and quickened her pace. She didn't turn around once. He didn't call her again, but slowed his jog to a complete stop and watched her till she turned the corridor. Then he turned around and walked back to Parvati, who gave him a sympathetic smile before placing a kiss on his lips.

On his second attempt, he had taken the seat next to hers in the Great Hall during dinner, not having had the courage to do it during lunch. But not a second went by before Hermione got up to leave. That night, she wasn't even in the library.

Harry hadn't tried anything else during the next week. She clearly hadn't forgiven him, and apparently every Gryffindor, though they were happy to have him back in the dorms, thought she was right.

Seamus was the first to defend her. It was the morning after Harry had returned to Gryffindor, and Hermione had opted to sit at the very corner of the table, as far away from them as possible. It might have gone unnoticed if it weren't because she was completely surrounded by first years, shooting nervous glances her way.

"Why's Hermione sitting over there?"

Harry didn't answer. The question alone gave him a guilt trip. Picking up his fork, he somberly began eating his eggs.

"She's mad at Harry" said Ron.

"Oh?" said Seamus, a curious glint in his eye. "She's jealous, huh?"

"Jealous?"

"Yeah. It's obvious she'd get jealous. Harry dumped her for Parvati—"

"I didn't _dump_ her."

"—And now he's so head over heels for her that he left all his accommodations in the Head's common room to be with her in Gryffindor. Now she can't even _see_ him half as much as she used to."

"She's not jealous," said Harry. "She's mad because I left and I didn't ask her."

Seamus paused for a moment, contemplating and then said, "Yeah, sounds like jealousy to me. I don't see a problem with you returning to Gryffindor."

"Hermione probably would've been fine with it," said Ron. "The problem is that when Harry left, someone else moved in."

Seamus looked startled. "Mate, you're not Headboy anymore?"

"I am," said Harry. "But someone else took up my living quarters."

"_Really_?" said Seamus, a bit amazed. "I didn't even know you could do that." He took a sip of his pumpkin juice. "Well that just proves my point. She's not even alone, you know? She's got company. The thing is that she wanted_ you_."

He winked at Harry, and the latter just went back to shuffling his food around.

Ron sighed. "I don't know if you could call Malfoy much company."

Harry could have killed Ron. He really could have.

Seamus' eyebrows shot up and his lips parted a bit, all out of strict surprise. Harry glanced up to catch his reaction just to see if everyone shared the same opinion, and upon seeing it, quickly looked back down. So he _was_ wrong.

"_Malfoy_?" said Seamus. "Tell me you're kidding."

"He was the next deserving candidate," defended Harry weakly.

"_The next deserving_—Merlin, Harry. And just what is considered _deserving_? The one with the most merit to become the next Dark Lord?"

Harry clenched his jaw. He was _clearly_ aware of who Malfoy was, he didn't need a sarcastic exaggeration to understand.

"Shit," said Seamus, still surprised. "She's got to spend the next," he paused, "_three_ months with a Slytherin. And _that_ Slytherin nonetheless." Seamus shook his head. "Harry, no offense and all but what the hell were you thinking?"

"Come on," said Ron. "Leave him alone, he feels bad enough."

"Well I'm sorry, but he bloody should. Leaving Hermione with _Malfoy_, of all people. No wonder she rather sit with first years."

"I get it," said Harry sourly. "There's nothing I can do about it now."

"And you were her best friend," he added.

"Seamus!" said Ron, at the same time as Harry echoed "You _were_ her best friend?"

"Do you even call yourselves friends at this point?" replied Seamus. "_I'm_ debating ever talking to you again for doing that to a Gryffindor."

Harry grumbled an odd response, and they didn't talk for the rest of the meal.

The second one to defend her was Ginny, but it wasn't done half as bluntly as Seamus had. They were in the Common Room, and Harry had Parvati on his lap. Ginny was lying on the floor, propped on her elbows, and finishing some of her Arithmacy homework. Dean was sitting on the chair next to Harry, and next to him was Ron.

And in the midst of the lively chat, Ron made a comment on Ginny's homework.

"You know you could just go to Hermione and she'll finish it all in less than a minute."

Ginny gave her paper a crooked smile. "Yeah, but then I'd have to stay two whole hours for the tutor session."

"She used to come here more often," said Dean. "I haven't seen her here in weeks."

Ginny glanced at Harry and mumbled an audible "I don't blame her."

And that was it. Harry didn't even respond to it, and Ron quickly changed the subject, but the accusation was like the elephant in the room. It was _there_, and they all knew it. So Parvati, who also felt awkward about the whole situation, turned to Harry and asked him if he wanted to take a walk. He readily agreed. That had been a week ago.

And now, he was lying on his girlfriend's lap under a tree on a beautiful spring day, and he couldn't feel more miserable. Even worse than the very night he had left Hermione. Why?

She looked better nowadays.

Yes, it was a very selfish thing to feel, but feelings were generally selfish anyway. The thing was, Harry much rather live with the idea that Hermione was living through hell in his absence than to think she was getting along perfectly fine without him.

She smiled on occasion, and she laughed at jokes, and she was (dare he say it?) social.

She still didn't sit with him, but she sat with Lavender and Ginny. Dean sat with them often, probably because he fancied Ginny, and Neville was always over there. From what he heard, she was still an anal over-achiever, and a sort of authority figure every now and then. But he also heard she was funny. Well people wouldn't say that she was funny, but you'd have an occasional story on what Hermione had said at dinner the previous night, and how it was _oh so hilarious_.

"What the—"

It was Parvati, who was looking at something that had caught her interest. Harry sat up and looked in the same direction. There was definitely some ruckus, and from what his experience as a 7th year at Hogwarts could tell him, it was between Slytherins and Gryffindors.

"What's going on?"

"It looks like they're about to fight."

Harry grumbled. "Fantastic. They couldn't wait for me to leave?"

With effort, he got to his feet and helped Parvati to hers. "Come on," he said. "Let's go before something that I can't stop starts."

He pulled her up and they began walking towards the crowd. Sighing slightly, he took out his wand and held it loosely in his hand.

"Is that Hermione?" asked Parvati.

Harry hadn't really been focusing on any individuals in the crowd, just the blob as a whole. But as soon as he heard Parvati mention Hermione, his interest peaked, his step became quicker, and hand tightened around his wand. "Is she involved in this?" she asked.

Harry said nothing. There was no way Hermione was there because she was _involved_. She was probably trying to stop it. This would be his chance. If he helped her stop it, helped her enforce school rules, then they might be on speaking terms again. Even if it's just as a respectful understanding, he'd at least be part of her life again. He just had to play his cards right.

"What's going on?" he asked in his most authoritative voice.

"Stay out of it, Potter."

Harry had to do everything in his power to keep his face in check. Had Hermione just called him Potter?

"I'm Head, too, Hermione. It's as much my responsibility as it is yours to enforce school rules."

Hermione turned to Harry. "I'd shut up about school rules if I were you, because right now I couldn't care less for them."

This time Harry couldn't control his reaction as his eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened in surprise. "What?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Potter just go. You have no idea what's going on and I suggest you don't get involved."

"It's my duty to get—"

"Since when do you care for duty?" she laughed, and just like that, turned to Dean. "You're missing a player, and I want to play."

"Hermione!" he said exasperated. "Both sides have fourteen!"

Harry's confusion increased. This was about a game?

"Rules say fifteen."

"Granger give it a rest," drawled Malfoy, arms folded. "Don't you see it's because you're a girl?"

"I don't see a girl on _your_ team!" defended Dean. "It's a bloke's game! She's just going to get hurt!"

"You still need a fifteenth!" said Hermione.

"But then they'd be uneven."

"Oh don't worry about us," laughed Nott. "We'll be just fine."

"In that case," replied Dean hotly. "Harry's on the team."

Harry, "huh?"

Hermione, in the meantime, fumed. "That's—that's just unfair!"

"Wait a minute," said Nott. "Then we're down a guy!"

"I thought you said not to worry about you," said Dean.

"Yeah but Granger hardly counted as a player!"

"You haven't even seen me play," replied Hermione hotly.

"I don't need to," replied Nott. "It's fifteen to fourteen, unfair."

"Since when do you guys play fair, anyway?" said Seamus.

There was a small uproar in which Malfoy used to show his superiority in maturity by rolling his eyes and keeping quiet.

"I don't give a bloody damn if the girl plays, but if the bloody Boy-Who-Lived plays then we need another player!"

"I'll be the other player then," said Hermione.

Draco tensed and Harry turned to her with an incredulous look on his face.

"What did you just say?" asked Harry.

"Did you just volunteer to play with bloody _Slytherin_, Hermione?" added Dean.

It was at his words, not Hermione's, that everyone quieted down to. Dean's expression was suddenly the expression of all Gryffindors, staring at her in disbelief. Harry's stare was the most intense, completely disbelieving and searching all at once. Draco was slightly uncomfortable and, well, surprised.

"Well," breathed Hermione. "You guys don't want me on your team so—"

"And what makes you think we do?" laughed Goyle.

"Well, you're down a player—"

"And you want to fill in?" asked Nott.

Hermione turned to him, insecurity written all over her face. "I want to play," she said. "And if my own house won't let me, I'll try for yours."

"Like hell you will!" growled Harry. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

Heated, "don't talk to me like that—"

"You're offering to play with _Slytherin_ for crying out loud, do you fucking _think_ that's okay?"

"Watch your mouth, Potter. You shouldn't even be talking. You left me living with a Slytherin! Playing one match with them is nothing compared to that."

"Fuck off!" shouted Nott. "No Gryffindor bird's playing on our team!"

At that there were a few Gryffindors that jumped to her defense, telling Nott to take it back and shut up. Harry on the other hand gave her a pointed look, a quick nod at the Slytherins and said; "It's with these people that you want to play with?"

"Doesn't matter if the lass wants to play with us or not, she just ain't gonna!" said a Slytherin fifth year.

"There's no reason why I shouldn't!" said Hermione. "I know the rules to the game, I know how it's played and last time I checked I had a fair throw."

The Slytherins laughed at this and the Gryffindors shifted uncomfortably. It was hard to stand by your own when they insisted on making fools of themselves.

"Hermione," said Ron. "Just forget about it. There's no point in trying."

"Honestly, Hermione," said Parvati from behind a glaring Harry. "As much as I am for girl power, this game's really rough—"

Hermione's eyes flicked to Parvati, a confused look on her face. "Who threw you the bone?"

Harry, who had been shooting searching daggers at Hermione flat out let his face drop all expression, and Draco, who had had his arms crossed in that superior manner of his with that superior scorn on his face, looking onto the bickering Gryffindors with disgust, forgot himself and let his eyebrows nearly disappear into his hairline.

"Excuse me?" said Parvati.

Hermione took a deep breath. "Just stay out of it. This doesn't concern you."

"Well now it does, doesn't it?"

"No, it really doesn't. Now if you don't mind minding your own business maybe I could carry on."

"I was just trying to help—"

"Well are you done?" she replied sassily.

"Hermione!" said Harry. "What is the matter with you?"

Hermione ignored him and turned to Draco, an expectant look in her eye. "I want to play. Are you going to let me play with you or not?"

"Piss off, Granger!" yelled Nott, but Draco gave him a silencing look, and whatever else he had to say was forced into a murmur to himself.

Draco turned to Hermione. A Gryffindor playing with Slytherins was unheard of. He didn't know what would be worse, her playing with them or him letting her. Either way, he figured, he was screwed. If he let her play, the house of Slytherin might consider it treachery. Still, if he didn't, he'd have hell back at the Head's Common Room.

But there was something about Hermione offering herself to Slytherin that just...

"Are you telling me, Granger," he said, "that you want to come over to the dark side?"

"I want to play Rugby."

He smirked. "That's not what I asked Granger. I asked if you want to come over to our side."

Harry huffed at this, and turning a bit red said "of course not. She doesn't want to go off and play against Gryffindor, against her _friends_, right Hermione?"

Hermione stayed silent for a moment, and somewhere in the Gryffindor crowd Seamus swore.

"I want to play. And if Gryffindor's going to be a sexist asshole," she directed at Dean, "then I'll play for the other team. Even if the other team is Slytherin."

Draco smirked victoriously, Ron fumed, Nott and Crabbe swore, and Parvati's jaw positively dropped. Harry, though, had not given up yet. Taking a step towards her, he grabbed her arm and pulled on it roughly.

"What do you think you're doing, Hermione?" he asked, furious. "Just what are you playing at?"

"Easy there, Potter," said Draco tensely.

"Oh fuck off, Malfoy, she isn't one of your players yet." said Harry, turning to Hermione. "I want an answer. Why are you all of the sudden—how and since when do you care for rugby?"

"What does it matter? You just stick to looking out for yourself, it's what you're good at. I'll look after me."

"You can't play for Slytherin."

"I can and I will. I don't see what the problem is, Potter. I mean, you didn't protest when Malfoy moved in, and he's as Slytherin as they get."

Draco couldn't help the proud smirk that spread across his face.

"Could you let that go?"

"_Let that go?_ You think that's something you could just _let go_?"

"Ah come on, Granger," said Draco. "I'm not that bad," he finished, and winked at her.

Harry caught it, and with a disgusted look reached to clench the front of his robes and shoved him threateningly. "Back off, Malfoy."

Draco didn't like to be grabbed around like that, and quickly advanced to retaliate, but Hermione yanked her arm out of Harry's grip and intervened, placing her hands on his chest and keeping him away.

There was an odd intimacy about it. As soon as she had done that, Draco had calmed down, compromising with himself to simply stare him down.

"There's no need for that," she said, and Draco removed his death glare from Harry and looked down at Hermione.

"So what about it, Granger? Gonna play or what?"

"You can't be _serious_, Draco!"

Hermione retrieved her hands, a smirk decorating her pretty face. "Let's go then."

The Slytherins, to say the least, were disgruntled. As nice as it was to have taken away the Gryffindor princess, the idea that they could lose a match to Gryffindor because of her overshadowed that glory. How could she offer to play with _Slytherin_? Didn't Gryffidors have this huge ego of being right-doers? How could any one of them possibly join the ones with the huge ego of being wrong-doers?

Ten minutes into the game, Hermione was tackled. She had already scored three times simply because the Gryffindors wouldn't touch her. But as she was about to score the fourth goal, Harry could no longer turn a blind eye. If she was serious about scoring for Slytherin, then she couldn't be considered a Gryffindor. Not for this game. And so, when she started on her sprint, he tackled her head on.

Harry knocked the wind out of Hermione, and it took her a couple of moments to get up. But she now knew, as did the Slytherins, that she was now open to any attack. Harry's tackle gave the rest the permission to do the same, and from now on she'd have to play smarter.

Three minutes later Harry tackled her again, so roughly that even Draco winced. It took a little longer for Hermione to get up, but she did, and she was pissed.

On the next play, Draco passed the ball back to Nott, who passed it back to someone else, who passed it back to Hermione, who sprinted for her life. The Slytherins tackled most of the approaching Gryffindors, and with one final breath she leaped forward and scored.

The one thing that she noticed about the Slytherins was their uptight way of celebrating a score. While she was used to seeing Gryffindors jump up and down like monkeys on cocaine for every goal, the Slytherins just smirked, maybe threw a fist in the air, and then made their way back to the startup. It was so subdued. She remembered when she first threw the ball right during the Holidays Draco could have thrown a party. He was so different now in front of everyone.

Were all Slytherins like that?

Hermione had been given the ball again. The Slytherins seemed to have seen the advantage to her small petite form. She was quick and being so small helped her dodge the big boys. Seamus managed to get her twice, but he did it so reluctantly he was full of apologies the second they hit the ground. Ron had gotten her once, but managed to place his arms on each side of her so that when they hit the ground, he could keep himself up wouldn't crush her with his weight.

Everyone seemed to be showing some sort of courtesy to her except for Harry, who when given the chance, would tackle her full force.

Back at the startup, Draco was giving orders.

"Granger's getting all of it out there, someone else's got to start scoring. From now on try and give all balls to either me or Nott. We're the fastest."

Nott, "What! Why not keep giving them to Granger? They're going easy on her."

"You call Potter's tackles easy?"

"Mate," said Nott seriously. "In comparison to what they'd do to us, it's a hell of a lot easier."

"Coward," said Hermione. "Is that why you're giving me all the plays?"

"Hey, we're getting tackled out there, too."

"Hardly in comparison to me."

"She's right," said Draco. "Stop giving her the plays for a bit and give her a break, she's practically dying out there."

"Who cares?" said Goyle.

Draco looked embarrassed and angry. "I want _Slytherins_ to beat Gryffindor, is that too much to ask?"

Every Slytherin, Hermione noticed, fell into the same silent embarrassment. She felt so out of place at that moment, looking at every dazed out, glaring Slytherin. She didn't share their anger or their passion. Their frustration was never so noticeable to her. Ever since Harry had come into the picture, Slytherin had never won at anything.

This, she realized, was important to them. This wasn't a Rugby game like she had thought. This was Slytherin vs. Gryffindor. This was why Draco had asked her if she would go over to the dark side, because playing on their team would mean just that. Playing for Slytherin's victory over Gryffindor. What the hell had she done?

Gryffindor scored in the next four plays before Draco went on a scoring rampage. It took Hermione about fifteen seconds to realize that Nott had been right. The Gryffindors had been going easy on her. A _lot_ easier. So much she didn't know if she should be angry or grateful.

Draco had passed back the ball to her, and she passed it back to Goyle. About ten seconds later, she was tackled.

It made no sense. She didn't have the ball and she wasn't even running. She was actually watching Goyle run up to score when she caught sight of Harry running towards her with an angry scowl, completely ignoring the actual play. Confused, she braced herself for what she thought she knew was coming.

Hermione's head hit the ground so roughly she was actually seeing spots of white lights. Harry's weight had knocked all the wind out of her, and the pain inflicted on her stomach was so blinding she felt the need to vomit almost immediately. She gasped for the air she lacked in order to subdue it. She looked so miserable trying to keep her lunch, almost like a fish out of water. It would have been amusing if it weren't so frightening.

She was wheezing, hyperventilating, he didn't know what to call it but Harry was getting scared. He knew he tackled her too hard. Harder than he's ever tackled any of the Slytherins. But he didn't think it would have this effect.

Knees on each side of her legs, he sat up, or kneeled up. Funny, all of the sudden he didn't want to inflict any bit of his weight on any bit of her body.

"Hermione," he said worried.

He felt someone pull on the back of his collar and try to shove him to the side, but he didn't budge. "Hermione, are you okay?"

"Get off of her, Harry!"

Harry started at the sound of her voice.

"Harry she needs help!" yelled Parvati.

It seems that while the players had been preoccupied with the actual game, the people on the sidelines had witnessed the tackle, and after noticing something was seriously wrong, rushed onto the field.

Harry got off her quickly, right before an out of breath Draco burst through the crowd of spectators, Ron right behind him.

"What happened!" asked Ron, shoving past Draco.

"I dunno, I tackled her—"

"More like rammed into her," growled Hannah Abbot. "There was no need for you to be so brutal!"

"I didn't think—Malfoy what are you doing?"

"While you idiots stand there chatting up a storm, I plan to actually take Granger to a place she can get help."

Draco bent down to help the half conscious Hermione sit up, but when he did, her wheezing gave way to regurgitation. People immediately stepped back, simultaneously worried and disgusted.

The only one that didn't take that step away from her was Draco, who wasn't exactly gentle as he pulled Hermione to her feet.

"You ate right before playing didn't you?" he asked. He received no response as Hermione's limp form doubled over to throw up the last bits of her lunch.

"I'll take her," said a guilty Harry, taking a step forward, but Ron held on to his arm.

"_I'll_ take her."

"I'm not going to kill her," growled Harry.

"No, you already tried _that_," said Lavender.

Hermione stood up, clutching her stomach, and swerved on the spot. Draco swore under his breath. Hermione heard him say something to the other two, and then start pushing everyone out of their way.

Hermione's head was pounding. She felt herself stumbling along, half conscious and dizzier than she ever remembered being.

The pain only increased with every step until eventually the white spots surrendered to complete darkness. She had lost consciousness.

* * *

"Any news, Albus?"

"None, Minerva. I can not lie to you and tell you that I'm not a little worried."

McGonagall took in a deep breath. She was getting too old for this.

"Have you asked the Malfoy boy if he knew anything?"

"I've talked to him. Nothing useful. If anything my speaking with him only got him more worried."

"A student can't just, _disappear_, Albus. Something must have happened to him. Mr. Zabini was not exactly the sort of young man to ditch his education."

Dumbledore looked like he had heard this a million times. "I know, Minerva. I've had Severus tell me this plenty."

"The students are catching on."

"Hogwarts hasn't seen him since before the Christmas break. It is now spring, Minerva. The students have long caught on."

"What do we tell them? That we know nothing? How safe would that make the student body feel?"

"I've sent a letter to the Ministry. They have done me the great favor of sending four aurors in search of him. Tell the students something is being done, but say no more. We don't really know what we're dealing with."

"And where have they sent the Aurors, if I may ask?"

"Scotland."

"Why Scotland?"

"Why not Scotland?"

* * *

"It was just a tackle," said Harry.

"How does Hermione end up at the Hospital Wing because of a tackle?" asked Ginny, amazed. "Did anyone try to prevent her from playing?"

"No, you don't understand," said Lavender. "It wasn't just a tackle Ginny. A hippogriff would have been gentler."

Ginny's eyebrows slowly made their way up her forehead as she turned to Harry. "You _tackled her_-tackled her?"

"She—she was playing for Slytherin! I didn't think it would hurt her that bad!"

"Bollocks," said Ron calmly. "You hoped it would hurt her."

"No I didn't!"

"Harry, I was there mate," said Ron. "Your tackles were rough from the start, but you just kept getting rougher and rougher."

"And the tackle that sent her to the hospital wing was a right out foul," added Lavender."

"What the hell do you know about what's a foul and what's not?" grunted Harry.

Lavender straightened up on the sofa of the common room, angry. "I might not be the most sports-oriented individual, but it doesn't take brains to realize that was a foul. She didn't have the ball and she wasn't even running. What you did was totally out of play!"

Ron looked at him ruefully. "It's as foul as a foul gets."

"Harry, what were you _thinking_," asked Ginny.

Harry dropped his head into his hands. "I wasn't."

"Do you even realize what you just did, Harry?" she continued. "You've ruined one of your best friendships. You've abandoned her to a Slytherin and sent her to the hospital wing in less than one month. Do you think it's like the little spats you two used to have? Don't you see there's such a slim possibility that she'll ever forgive you?"

Harry's stomach dropped. He had always thought of his fights with Hermione as temporary. It was always just a matter of time before they started talking again.

But the possibility that they'd never talk again…well, he had never considered it one.

"Hermione always forgives," he reasoned. "She always tries to be the bigger person."

"Harry," stated Ginny. "You sent her to the _hospital wing_. Even if she did forgive you, how long is that going to take? And by then, will you two ever have the same relationship you've had these past few years?"

"Ginny, stop," said Ron.

"Why?" asked Lavender spitefully. "He should feel as guilty as possible. Slytherins wouldn't have hurt her that bad."

"That's pushing it," defended Harry.

"And how do you figure that?" asked Ginny. "They didn't hurt her at all. You did. And," she breathed, "to top it all off, you didn't even help her! Malfoy did!"

"Draco's a nice guy once you get to know him," stated Lavender.

Ginny turned to the older girl. "No, he isn't," she said firmly. "Of all the things Malfoy could be called, nice is not one of them."

"Don't be so harsh," bit Lavender. "He helped her didn't he?"

"To be able to rub it in her face!" said Ginny, as if it were the most obvious thing. "You honestly think he did it out of the kindness of his own heart?"

"I do," said Lavender with conviction. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"That's because you dated him. You're conveniently forgetting the part when he dumped you as soon as he got tired."

Ouch?

"Malfoy's a git," continued Ginny. "I would know. Last month I was getting extra attention, don't ask me why because frankly I don't know, but at _every_ opportunity he saw, he tried to make me miserable. And I don't even live with him! I could only imagine what poor Hermione goes through."

"I don't know," said Ron. "He seemed to be genuinely angry at Harry for hurting her. Maybe they've made a peace treaty."

Ginny scoffed. "As if either would ever commit such treachery to their house. No," she nodded, "he definitely did it for interest. Who knows, maybe he's going to make her do something horrible in order to repay the favor."

"I'm telling you he looked—" began Ron, but he was promptly cut off.

"Oh is it really difficult for Malfoy of all people to look angry at Harry?" she spat. "Think about what you're saying, Ron. Malfoy care for Hermione? I'm sure he secretly entertained himself with the idea of taking a detour and dropping her in the lake."

Ron laughed, but at a glare from Harry who felt too guilty for laughter, he fell silent.

"I'm sure he didn't," said Lavender lamely.

Ginny just shook her head, and looked at Harry. "What I'm trying to say is that on top of leaving her and injuring her, you gave her greatest enemy a weapon to use against her."

"I wouldn't put it past him now that you mention it," said Ron.

Harry gritted his teeth. "I didn't mean for any of it—"

"And yet you did it all single-handedly," said Lavender.

"She had no business playing for Slytherin."

"Fine," said Lavender. "I agree with that. But it's not like you guys were letting her play with you."

"Wait, _what_?" said Ginny. "I thought Hermione was being weird and promoting house unity or something. You guys didn't let her play?"

"It's a bloke's game, Gin," said Ron. "Pretty rough."

"And what's Quidditch?" asked Ginny. "It's not exactly a walk through the park."

"It was _Hermione_," he responded. "She doesn't _play_ quidditch—or anything last time I checked!"

"Apparently she plays rugby," shrugged Lavender.

"How do you figure that?" asked Ginny.

"She played pretty well up until Harry here tried to kill her."

"Really?" asked Ginny, surprised and somewhat proud. Girl power definitely went far with the redhead.

"Yeah," shrugged Ron. "Surprised me too. Where were you, anyway, that you missed all this?"

"Detention with Snape," she scowled, but then a gleam invaded her eye. "And you wouldn't believe what I found out about the Zabini mystery."

Harry leaned in. "What?" he asked in a low voice.

"Apparently Dumbledore's had the Ministry send four aurors out to look for him," she whispered.

"Are you serious?" said Ron. Ginny nodded.

"I was doing my lines when McGonagall came in and asked Snape to step outside for a moment because she had something she wanted to discuss with him. Snape got up so quickly he nearly knocked over the ink bottle, and rushed out. In all his fuss, though, he left the door ajar, and I was able to hear most of what they were saying."

"Which was?" prodded Ron.

"McGonagall then told him what I told you. That Dumbledore had gone off and written a letter to the Ministry asking for four aurors to go out on the search for Blaise Zabini. Snape got angry at that point, telling her that that wasn't anything new, that it had been done weeks ago and to return to him when she had real news. Weird thing is McGonagall wasn't even mad. She was surprised because apparently Dumbledore had just revealed the information to her. Then Snape asked her something about a location, but by then I guess he saw the door and closed it shut. I couldn't hear any more."

"Wow," said Lavender. "The Ministry's involved?"

Immediately the other three looked at each other. They had all forgotten she was there, and now it was certain that the whole school would find out within the hour what Ginny had just said.

"Please don't tell anyone," tried Ginny.

"Of course not!" said Lavender. "This is a very serious matter."

She was so telling everyone.

* * *

"Hey Draco, did you hear?"

Draco looked up lazily from the blank piece of parchment in front of him. "You might want to lower that tone, Crabbe. We are in the library."

Crabbe looked around swiftly before taking a seat. "Why are you here? It's Saturday."

Draco didn't respond. He didn't have to. He just looked at Crabbe with a _why are you here_ stare.

"Right," said Crabbe. "Well, I came here to give you news on Blaise, unless you've already heard in which case it's not much news at all is it?"

At the sound of Blaise's name, Draco's stomach dropped and his heart began racing. He couldn't help the worry and angst he felt every time he thought about his mysterious disappearance. Any information about Blaise seemed to lead to nothing, if there was any information at all.

"What did you hear?"

Crabbe, sickeningly too excited to have the Slytherin King hanging on his every word, took the luxury of taking a sigh of suspense.

"Well," he said. "Apparently the Ministry's involved now."

Draco straightened up. "What do you mean the Ministry's involved?"

"Sounds like preventative action, doesn't it?"

"Is it?" asked Draco. He was getting impatient.

"No. They're not taking Death Eater children and locking them up in Azkaban, Draco. If they were, don't you think you and I would be first?"

"So what is it?" growled Draco.

"Dumbledore's asked the Ministry to send out fourteen aurors in search of him!"

"What?" asked Draco, confused.

"I know," said Crabbe. "But there you have it. Either Blaise killed someone or someone's afraid he's been killed. Either way, it's something serious ain't it?"

Draco looked squarely at Crabbe. "He's been gone since before Christmas and you've just realized it's serious?"

Crabbe shrugged. "He's always been a bit of a troublemaker. I wouldn't be too surprised if the aurors find him at a beach somewhere taking a vacation."

"That's not Blaise. Believe it or not he took school seriously."

"No he didn't. He didn't even do his own homework."

Draco didn't say anything, because it was true. Blaise hardly ever did his own homework. Usually, some girl would do it for him, and he loved to brag about that. But what he never tells anyone is that he reviewed it. Most of the time, he would add and take away so much from the essays that they weren't event he girl's work anymore. But of course, Blaise would never say that part.

"But, fourteen aurors. Don't you thin that's crazy, Draco?"

"Unrealistic if you ask me," he said. "Where'd you hear this?"

"Pair of Gryffindors. They never lie."

Draco smirked. Oh yes, yes they did.

Crabbe gave him a look. "What are you laughing about?"

Draco's face straightened. "I'm not laughing."

"You had that look on your face like I didn't know what I was talking about."

"You probably don't," he replied easily.

Crabbe pursed his lips and looked like he wanted to say something, but was internally debating it.

"What?" instigated Draco. "Just say it."

Crabbe paused, mentally selecting the proper words.

"Draco," he said, and took another pause. "Today, during the game, you just helped Granger because of that bet you have with Blaise, right? You were just trying to win her over, right?"

Draco gave him a blank stare, masking any insecurity he felt. "Right," he said blandly.

"You weren't really worried for her, were you?"

"No."

"Good," breathed Crabbe. "It looked a bit different on the field but I knew better. I just had to make sure."

He got up.

"See you then, Draco," he said, but when he had take a few steps away, paused and turned around. "Hey, let me know when you're through with her, alright? When everything's over I mean. I still want my revenge. If you break her in it'd be better. I never really liked to do virgins anyway," he said.

Draco stared at Crabbe with a mixture of anger and disturbance.

"You should really consider having a girl's consent, Crabbe. What you're doing is illegal."

The other boy smirked. "Not nearly as fun if they don't fight. Worth the trouble if you know what I mean."

And he turned to leave.

Draco stared after him, swearing to murder him cold if he ever laid a single finger on his girlfriend.

Draco sighed and looked at his watch. It was 7:00 pm. About six hours ago, he had dropped off Hermione at the hospital wing, followed by her two idiot friends. Or her one idiot friend.

His eyebrows furrowed in thought. He hadn't known that she wasn't on good terms with just Potter. He knew she was often on bad terms with Weasley, and that usually led to bad terms with the both of them. But just Potter…

He knew—the whole school knew—that those two were kindred spirits. He knew, quite grudgingly, that no one could make Hermione laugh like Potter could. No one could figure her out like he could.

Draco chose to not be jealous anymore. It was pointless. If you couldn't beat them, join them, right? Not that he'd _ever_ be friends with Potter, but he did understand that there was absolutely no point in trying to beat seven years of friendship.

Still, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of victory when Hermione had chosen _his_ side over Potter's; or when she first addressed him by his surname.

He _could've_ gotten jealous when he started tackling Hermione at every opportunity, but even he couldn't find any secret romantic motive in it. Potter wasn't after cheap-feels, he was just plain angry.

Draco's hand was slowly making a fist. The only reason he hadn't plundered Potter's face right then and there was because it wouldn't have been wise.

That's right, Draco had become less impulsive as of late. It was Hermione's doing.

"_Just __**try**__ to think before you act, Draco. I'd hate for you to start beating someone up out of jealousy. Something like that's hard to explain."_

"_What makes you think I'd ever get jealous over you?"_

"_Because you just did!" she said. _

Well it wasn't his fault he didn't like that Boot kid giving her flowers. He had to do everything in his power to not get up and knock every tooth out of that big smile of his when he caught him giving them to her in the hallway the other night.

"_Don't tell me you're after Granger, Boot."_

"_Then don't ask," he had said, and he took that as motive enough to slam him against the wall._

"_What was that, cheeky slag?" he grumbled._

"_Dra—Malfoy!" yelled Hermione, trying to pry him off Terry with a bouquet of roses in one hand._

_Grudgingly—oh yes, very grudgingly—he released the Ravenclaw._

"_Don't ever talk back to me like that," he shot dangerously._

_Red and short of breath, Terry had one hand on his neck and the other had gone for his wand. "I'll talk to you however I want to, Malfoy. And now that you've released me I hope you know I won't keep quiet about this little attack of yours."_

"_Little? I didn't know you wanted anything bigger," said Draco, advancing. _

_Hermione intervened, rolling her eyes with impatience. "Malfoy! Stop it, will you?"_

_He clenched his jaw. _

"_Terry, please don't tell any professors about this. I have to live with him now, you don't. You weren't seriously hurt, were you?"_

"_No, but—"_

"_So you won't tell, right?"_

_Terry considered, and grudgingly agreed. "Fine. But only if you'll go on a date with me," he ended smoothly._

"_Go on ahead and tell anyone you want, Boot," said Malfoy. "I couldn't care less."_

_Hermione took a deep, impatient breath and then told Terry that she wasn't sure. "Do you really think this is the best time to ask me out anywhere?" she tested._

"_You're right, Hermione," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight."_

"_Goodnight," taunted Draco._

_And the second he disappeared around the corner, Draco turned to Hermione. "You're not seeing him tomorrow," he growled. _

"_Obviously," she responded in a low voice. "I'm kind of, sort of taken, aren't I?"_

"_No you're not kind of, sort of taken. You're completely and entirely taken."_

"_You're pushing it," she pointed out. "Just __**try**__ to think before you act, Draco. I'd hate for you to start beating someone up out of jealousy. Something like that's hard to explain."_

"_What makes you think I'd ever get jealous over you?"_

"_Because you just did!" she laughed, and they made their way back to the common room._

Draco lifted the blank piece of parchment and began rolling it up. There was no point in writing that Care of Magical Creatures essay when all he could think of was Hermione. He'd have to do it tomorrow.

He opened up his backpack and put it in there, got up, and made his way over to the Hospital Wing. He kind of, sort of missed his girlfriend.

* * *

The sky outside was only a light gray, but already the torches of the Hospital Wing had been turned on to their full power. In the yellow light that they gave off, Hermione looked like she was just sleeping. She didn't look at all hurt. But he knew better…Madame Pomfrey and showed him better.

When he had first come, a good half hour ago, the mediwitch came out of her little office with the devil in her eyes and, with a wavering finger, showed him Hermione's bruised ribs.

"She cracked two," she continued. "Growing them back as we speak."

Harry winced. He knew the horrors of growing bones, but Hermione looked…in peace…

"Dreamless Sleep Draught," said the mediwitch. "Meant to wear off the second they're done growing."

"They're just broken," wondered Harry. "Why is she growing them back?"

"Because they were that broken, Mr. Potter," she said curtly. "A poor girl her size can't take the weight of a full-grown, six-feet-two young man. Especially if it came with force."

Satisfied with the guilt she saw in Harry, she retrieved back to office.

And Harry took a nearby seat and placed it at the foot of her bed, sat down, and watched her.

Never in his life had he thought he'd be the reason for Hermione's injury. He was her protector, the older brother she never had. He was her best friend, her confidant, her entertainer and mind reader.

And this is what he did to her.

Ginny was right. First he hurt her emotionally and now physically. Could he expect forgiveness after this? He hadn't even gotten it for the first injury, and now he was going to ask for it for the second. When had he turned into such a bad friend?

The door creeked open and a platinum blonde Slytherin entered swiftly and closed the door. He turned around, and clashed sight with Harry.

Clenching his jaw, Draco began to walk towards Hermione's bed.

"What're you doing here, Malfoy?" bit Harry.

Draco stopped before Hermione's bed. "She's still not up?" he asked, surprised.

"What are you _doing_ here, Malfoy?" repeated Harry.

"I'm giving Granger her homework," said Draco smoothly.

"How kind of you," said Harry sarcastically.

"You've lived with Granger," said Draco. "You know how she gets if she's behind in school. I don't feel like dealing with that, so I've come to drop off her assignments. You idiots could go fetch her books later."

Harry measured Draco up with his stare, before biting out a murmured thanks.

"Don't mention it…ever."

And right then, Hermione stirred, and smiled. Harry immediately rose from his chair.

She opened her eyes, and squinted. "I know that voice," she whispered, and smiled softly.

Harry, confused, looked at Draco, who's heart was beating so fast at the idea that Potter would find out about them that he couldn't respond to Hermione.

"What are you doing here so late?" whispered Hermione.

Draco's heart came to a slow, thundering stop. He glanced at Harry before going back to look at Hermione.

"I came to give you your homework."

She grinned, and opened her mouth to say something, but Harry spoke at that moment, and Draco didn't remember a time he was ever happy to hear Potter open his mouth.

"I'll get you your books later," he said.

Hermione's face changed completely. Her eyebrows furrowed and she squinted to get a better look.

"_Harry_?" she said, confused. Her features changed to alarm. "What's going on?"

Draco looked at Hermione closely, his bag now hanging loosely in his hand, practically touching the floor. He walked towards her.

The movement made Harry look at him, and he would have stopped him if he hadn't, too, felt something was off.

"What are you doing here?" said Hermione in a low voice. "Get out."

"Hermione," began Harry, but he didn't finish. He couldn't. Draco had come to a complete stop right next to her bed, right next to her.

"I don't want you here!" she whispered loudly.

"Granger, why are you whispering?" asked Draco, softly.

"It's the middle of the night, does it look like I want to get in trouble?"

Draco's heart sank. He felt like a cold bucket of ice had just been thrown on him, and he was no longer able to breathe correctly.

He turned back to look at Harry, who if possible, looked worse than what he felt. Horrorstricken, Harry had paled considerably and couldn't do anything but stare at Hermione.

"Why are you two doing here at this time, anyway?" she whispered angrily.

Funny, she wasn't angry when it was just Malfoy. But Harry didn't notice. He didn't notice anything. He had completely frozen in anticipation and fear.

"Granger," said Draco tentatively. "Granger it's seven-thirty. Evening. All the lights are on…"

He didn't continue. He saw it in her face that she had gotten the message.

Hermione opened her eyes wide, and for the first time Draco, with a sinking sensation, was able to see their new color.

Blue.

She looked around frantically. "No," she whispered. "No."

Harry collapsed back onto his chair, pale and drawn as if he couldn't believe what had happened, what was happening. He looked around for a moment, wondering if it was all just a dream.

A nightmare.

But it wasn't. It was as real as Hermione's frantic reaction, screaming and trying to get out of the bed, and as real as Malfoy trying to hold her down. It was as real as the tears of her blue eyes, and the legs she was kicking about in her tantrum.

He couldn't remember why he had done it anymore. Why he had tackled her. He couldn't think of a good enough reason. There was none. She was five-foot-three, he was six-foot-two. She was a scarce 110 lbs at most, and he was a fair 163. What had he been thinking?

Madame Pomfrey was giving her another draught, or forcing it into her mouth with Malfoy's help. Hermione was spitting it out, determined to not prolong a solution with sleep, and Malfoy was trying to convince her to take it. And all Harry could do was sit there, frozen, staring at the scene in horror.

He knew at that moment that nothing would ever be the same. It hadn't been since the holidays, but now there was no hope. He had just lost his best friend.

* * *

**AN: I'm so sorry I did that, guys! I know a lot of you liked Harry, and I know a lot of you loved their friendship. I did. But this is crucial, it needed to happen. We all secretly know why.**

**And…again, I'm sorry for the delay!! But I got it done right? Nice and long like usual?**

**The only things that got me to do it were the reviews. Honestly guys, you're great and the more you review the more I write. So please review!! I love long ones :D hehehe.**

**By the way…it's 1:36 am.**


	26. Because I'm her fucking Boyfriend

**AN:** Okay, I had no idea that there would be such an overwhelming confusion about the blue eyes. When people become blind, their eyes lose their pigment, and they'll have blue eyes. But it's not the pretty blue eyes with the fierce pupil, the pupil lightens as well. Your eye loses pigment, lol. That's what it is. Now I know that usually takes some time, but there are exceptions. My uncle, though he had the beginning signs of glaucoma, got into a car accident and lost his vision. He can only see from the corner of his right eye. He holds everything up to that. The rest of his eye is blue, and his other eye is completely blue. His eyes were blue from the moment he opened them in the hospital (according to my grandma).

If you can remember, when Hermione's head first hit the ground, it was so hard she started seeing white spots. When you start seeing white spots, not color blotches, you're losing vision.

I actually thought that it would all be confusion and uncertainty till I said her eyes were blue. I thought that everyone would get that she was blind because of it! Sorry for the confusion. If you don't believe me you can look it up in Google or something lol. Someone's bound to say that all blind people have blue eyes.

**Chapter 26:**** Because I'm her fucking Boyfriend**

The sun was rising, taking the first peek over the Astronomy Tower and onto the grounds. There, sitting silently under a tree was Harry. He had spent the whole night there, a total of about nine hours that to him felt like mere seconds.

He hadn't returned to the Gryffindor Common Room, and he highly doubted he'd go to class. He wanted to be alone. Could he manage that? He wished he had stayed in the Head's Common Room where he had his own room. There he would've been able to wallow in self pity, eat his emotions, cry, scream, do absolutely anything that he wanted. Nobody would bother him at all. Unfortunately, Malfoy now occupied that room.

Harry brought his hand up to his eye, bruised purple, and pressed on it. He wanted it to hurt. At that point, he wished Madame Pomfrey hadn't bound Malfoy the way she had. Harry would have gladly taken more blows. He wanted them.

Pomfrey had kicked him out of the Hospital Wing and he still didn't know what she did with Malfoy. He had waited a good ten minutes outside the Hospital Wing in hopes that Malfoy would be sent out as well, and he could let him finish what he had started. But by the end of those ten minutes, Harry figured he wouldn't be kicked out, and instead of questioning the odd scenario, had left for the grounds.

And had never returned.

Parvati had gone in search of him, and Ron had accompanied her. But to no avail. They had gone to the hospital wing, but Madame Pomfrey hadn't let them in. She did inform them that Mr. Potter had left a while ago, and she didn't know where to.

"How is she?" asked Ron quietly.

Madame Pomfrey's eyes immediately watered and she closed the door on them. Ron and Parvati looked at each other, a whole new reason to worry now on their plates.

Harry couldn't take it. He would be hated by everyone when they found out. No one would talk to him, and he envied them for it. If only he could do the same. If only he could despise the person that did that to Hermione.

Wait, he did.

All those talks, those priceless moments with her—he'd thrown those all away simply because she was playing for Slytherin. Had it even been that serious?

No. Not really. She would have been ostracized. There was no doubt about that, but no one—no one—would have sent her to the freaking hospital wing.

He had.

He really wished Pomfrey hadn't stopped Malfoy. He hadn't even gotten started, Harry knew it. The fury in Malfoy was unlike anything he'd never seen.

Harry shook his head in dismay. Even Malfoy sympathized Hermione. He was as good as dead.

In a fleeting moment of desperation and anger, Harry clutched his head and gave a throaty scream of frustration.

And finally, after nine hours, he felt his chest contract, the corners of his mouth quiver, his nose sting and his eyes burn. The tears that then flowed from his emerald eyes were absolutely ruthless.

* * *

"I personally knew Harry never really liked her," said Romilda Vane, brushing her hair slowly. "But I had no idea he'd _do_ that to her."

"Goes to show you the man you want to be your husband's abusive."

Romilda Vane said nothing, so Terry continued.

"I went to visit her this morning and then again after dinner. Madam Pomfrey didn't let me."

"What business have you got being there anyway?"

"What's wrong with visiting Hermione? She's bloody injured."

Romilda put her brush down and turned to him. "I'm sure she's got plenty of friends that will pay her a visit."

"Including me," snapped Terry. "She's not even with Harry Potter anymore, I don't know why you still dislike her."

"Well to be fair I never _really_ liked her," said Romilda, turning back around and picking up the brush. "She was always a little bossy know-it-all."

"She just knows more than all of us, it's not her fault. She's actually quite humble about it."

"Right," said Romilda Vane. "Raising her hand to every bloody question the professors ask is oh so humble of her to do."

"Well no one else is answering them. If anything she makes the class go by quicker."

"Why are you defending her?" asked Romilda. "Who cares if she's humble or not. Point is she's bloody annoying in the classroom."

Terry laughed. "Everyone's annoying to you, Romilda. It's no wonder you haven't any friends—other than me, of course."

"That's not true!" she exclaimed. "I've got plenty of good friends."

Terry raised an eyebrow.

"Put that brow down, it's not an eyebrow raising statement."

Terry laughed louder. "Alright," he said. "Name them."

"Don't have to," said Romilda. "I've got nothing to prove."

"Fine," smiled Terry. "In that case I think I'll get going."

"Where are you going?"

"To visit Hermione."

Annoyed, "What for?"

"To see how she's doing," he said easily. He walked to the door and opened it. "See you tomorrow."

"See you," said Romilda oddly, and watched Terry leave.

There was something about that that bothered her, but she wasn't entirely sure what.

* * *

"Let me in."

"Mr. Malfoy, Professor Dumbledore gave clear orders not to let anyone in."

"To hell with Dumbledore's orders—"

"Mr. Malfoy!" she shrieked. "I won't stand for—"

"Just let me see her."

"She's in the exact same state you saw her in the last time you were here."

"She hasn't woken up yet?"

Madame Pomfrey looked down at the floor. "No, she hasn't."

Draco furrowed his eyebrows in slight confusion. Something wasn't adding up.

"You haven't continued to give her more sleeping draught have you?"

When the old nurse didn't respond, Malfoy swore.

"_Mr. Malf_—"

"What are you _thinking_ giving her more—"

"I do believe that _I'm_ the mediwitch here! I ask you not to question my decisions as I know more about the matter than you do."

"I know what you're trying to do and it's very _noble_ and all but it has consequences!"

"I will not be lectured by a _student_ on my profession!"

"You're trying to numb her from the pain, it's not safe!" he whispered loudly.

"And you would know that how, seventh year?"

"I've studied to be a Healer—"

"You haven't even graduated Hogwarts!" said Madame Pomfrey, clearly not believing him.

"I'm not kidding! Trust me I've interned—"

"And I've served Hogwarts for decades. Believe me when I say I know what I'm doing."

Draco reconsidered his approach. This was becoming less and less about Hermione for Madame Pomfrey and more and more about her professional pride. Alright, he could try something different.

"I'm not saying you don't know what you're doing," he stated cautiously. "I'm just saying that you're letting your own emotions—"

"I am a professional—"

"Right," he said tensely. Honestly, the old hag wasn't making this any easier. "But you keep giving her draught because I'm sure every time she wakes up it's hell for her and you don't want her to go through it. Now that's really—nice—of you, but forgive me when I say it's not very smart of you. You need to let her wake up so that—"

Madame Pomfrey's lips were pressed into a thin line. "Thank you for the advice Mr. Malfoy I'll be sure to take it into consideration. Now if that's all you needed to say," she said, and went to close the door.

Malfoy stuck his foot in the threshold, preventing the door from closing. His new approach wasn't working. Fine.

"We don't know the severity of her blindness," said Draco wincing at the pain in his foot. "You don't know the effect the draught might have on her. It's never good in excess, I'm _sure_ you know that."

Offended, "Of course I do—"

"Then why do you keep on giving it to her?"

"Because every time she wakes up she asks for you!" she snapped. "I may be old, Mr. Malfoy, but Hogwarts never changes. I know what could happen if anyone heard her begging for a Slytherin. She's a Gryffindor and as ridiculous as it is, because believe me I know it is, you don't mess with the House order. Especially not in these times!"

Draco needed a few seconds to digest what had just been said, because, really, of all the things he could have predicted, never in a million years would he have guessed all that.

"The war's over," he said sourly. "It's long been done."

"_You_ of all people should know it's all but over," she hissed. "You know first hand—"

"I'm going to have to _respectfully_ ask you to leave my mother out of this."

Madame Pomfrey nearly fumed. "And poor Harry Potter carrying the weight of this world," she breathed. "The last thing he needs is to find out his best friend has tangled herself with the Malfoy boy!"

Draco would have said something. Under normal circumstances, he would have sworn her into stupidity but the truth was that he was at a complete loss for words. Until that moment, he really had had no idea that Madame Pomfrey didn't like him.

But there was one thing he felt needed saying.

"Your poor Harry Potter is the reason why Hermione Granger's blind."

Madame Pomfrey seemed to have caught herself in her own immaturity and had the decency to look somewhat ashamed. "I'm not saying that you aren't suited for Ms. Granger because you're a Slytherin. You won't be in Hogwarts forever. It's your person, Mr. Malfoy, that's at fault."

"But you mentioned the House order," he said. "That's the reason why you're drugging her—"

"I'm not drugging her," she replied annoyed. "And yes, she's a Gryffindor and you're a Slytherin. Here at Hogwarts, that's a big deal."

"You don't have to tell me, Madame Pomfrey. Honestly I know. Everybody in this damn school knows."

"It's not so much the house as it is it's members, Mr. Malfoy," she said carefully.

"That's the _same _bloody thing," said Draco, astonished at the stupid phrase. "We get _sorted_."

The nurse gave him a stern look. "Do let me finish, Mr. Malfoy. Your father's history and your epic rivalry with Mr. Potter and his friends aside, even ignoring the fact that you're in Slytherin and she's in Gryffindor, it's _you_ that's the problem," she said.

Draco's eyebrows slowly made their way up his forehead. Noticing that what she had just said wasn't the most appropriate way to put it, she took in a deep breath and started again. Draco couldn't have been more annoyed.

"I guess what I'm trying to say Mr. Malfoy is that you could have been sorted into Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, even Gryffindor itself and you would still be a catastrophic match for Ms. Granger."

This woman just kept getting worse. "Pardon?"

Irritated, "You're a playboy, Mr. Malfoy! A womanizer, a Don Juan, whatever you want to call it! You take advantage of a lovely young lady's trust and then throw her away the minute you tire of her! You look a bit shocked Mr. Malfoy. What, did you think that only the students knew about these things? The staff has eyes, and even if we didn't we'd all simultaneously agree that Ms. Granger deserves better!"

"I don't know what it is exactly you're implying here, Madam Pomfrey," he growled, "but Granger and I are only friends. We've settled a peace treaty—"

"A peace treaty so deep she calls for you in her times of trouble?"

Draco hesitated. "She hasn't been on very good terms with Pothead and Weasel—I mean Potter and Weasley," he quickly fixed. "Since I've been sharing living quarters with her we've had not choice but to—"

"Do her a favor," interrupted Madame Pomfrey, not accepting any of the story she was being fed, "and yourself and keep your distance. It's for the best," she finished tersely. She went to close the door.

But Draco had come for a reason, and it _wasn't_ to have a chat with the ancient woman. Once again, he sacrificed his foot to the heavy door.

"So," he strained. It really was a heavy door. "Dumbledore didn't give any orders to not let anyone in. You were just trying to keep me out."

"No, he actually did," responded the nurse. "But said to make exceptions for you and Mr. Potter."

"_Potter_?" repeated Draco, furious. "Why does _he_ get privilege?"

"Why do you?" asked Madame Pomfrey. Draco clenched his jaw.

_Because I'm her fucking boyfriend?_

Madame Pomfrey sighed, tired of the chat. "Look Mr. Malfoy, there's no point in you coming in anyway, she's well asleep. Return tomorrow evening, she should be awake by then and I'll let you in."

Draco was too angry to reply, so he simply removed his foot from the threshold and glared at her as she closed the door.

Stupid woman.

* * *

Mondays, by law of society, sucked. They were generally the end to a fun weekend, and the beginning to a whole week of the same, monotonous routine.

Part of that same, monotonous routine was dinner.

"Maybe one of us should injure ourselves," suggested Dean.

"There's an idea," said Seamus. "We'd get in for sure."

"Don't be daft," said Ginny. "No need to go hurting ourselves. If she's locked up in there it's got to be for a reason."

"It's not like her face in monstrous or anything," said Ron. "When I left her at the hospital wing there wasn't a single bruise on her face."

There was a momentary, reflecting silence where everyone stared off into nowhere.

"Where _is_ Harry," said Ginny. "I haven't seen him since Saturday."

"Parvati and I went looking for him, couldn't find him at all. He wasn't even at practice yesterday and he wasn't in class."

"Haven't seen him at the dorm either," added Seamus. "He must stink like hell."

"I'm actually worried," said Dean. "I know he's beating himself up for the whole Hermione thing."

"He should," said Seamus easily. "But he shouldn't go on a hunger strike or anything like that." He laughed, "We need him for the next rugby game."

"Bad joke," said Ginny seriously. "None of this would've happened if you guys had let Hermione play for her own house."

Dean looked down at his empty plate. "Let's not talk about that," he said uneasily. "You have no idea how many times that same thought's gone through my head. And she was actually good, for a girl of course."

"Yeah, you didn't give her much of a chance," said Seamus. "None of us did."

"But we didn't go charging at her like a bloody hippogriff," defended Dean. "That was all Harry."

"I just hope he's alright," said Ginny.

"He's fine," said Dean. "Knowing Harry he's probably locked himself up in some room and getting foods from the kitchens."

"Or he's committed suicide," said Seamus. "Either way, he's fine."

"_Bad joke,_" said Ginny and Ron simultaneously, though Dead chuckled.

Ron stomach then decided to grumble. "This is ridiculous," murmured Ron. "When _is_ this food coming?"

"Patience," bit Ginny. "Honestly does anything else ever cross your mind?"

Ron made a face at her, which Ginny returned with an offensive hand gesture. In the middle of this little interaction, Neville came to sit next to Dean, his arm in a cast.

Dean took one look at Neville's arm and said, "I don't want to know."

Seamus elbowed him and took over. "What happened?"

"I fell down the stairs on my way to lunch."

"Did you go to the hospital wing?" cut Ginny.

"Obviously," said Neville with a little laugh.

"Did you see Hermione?" asked Ron.

Neville paused, finally understanding the true reason behind their concern, and then nodded. "There were these curtains drawn around her bed," he said. "Madame Pomfrey couldn't kick me out quick enough."

Ginny bit her lip, just as the food began to appear on their plates. "That's too weird," she commented.

No one responded.

* * *

Madame Pomfrey opened the door to the hospital wing, and upon laying her eyes on the blonde Slytherin, she sighed. "Come in, Mr. Malfoy."

He didn't deign her with a response. Why should he? The hag didn't like him and he wasn't one to pretend to like someone either. He simply walked in, past her, and to Hermione's bed. Setting his backpack on the floor, he went to pull back the curtains.

There, he found a very neatly made bed with fluffed pillows, but no Hermione.

Confused, he turned to the rest of the hospital wing, and walked around her bed to get a look at the other half. She wasn't there.

"Where is she?" he asked Madame Pomfrey, who didn't deign him with an answer.

Vindictive old bitch.

God knows what Draco Malfoy would have done then to Madame Pomfrey, but luckily, at that very moment, a knock came to the door, and the woman opened it.

It was Albus Dumbledore.

He strolled in the way he always strolls into places, and with that light mystical voice that he always talks in, he said "Ah, Mr. Malfoy. What a pleasure to see you."

Draco wasn't in the mood for polite conversation, even if it was with the Headmaster. "Where is she?"

"Where is who, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco had to do everything in his power to not swear out loud. "Hermione Granger," he strained. "Where is she?"

Dumbledore came to a stop right in front of Hermione's old bed and peered in. He then turned to Madame Pomfrey, "They've already taken her, then?" he asked. The nurse nodded. "This morning at eleven, as promised," she said, glancing at Draco.

"_Return tomorrow evening, she should be awake by then and I'll let you in."_

The blasted woman had known she'd be gone. Draco made a mental note to never let her cater to his injuries.

"Who took her where?" he asked, seriously glowering at Madame Pomfrey.

"St. Mungo's," said Dumbledore. "She needs to be taken care of properly."

It was bullshit. Draco was sure of it.

"How'd you get her there?" he tested.

"I believe Side-along apparition was what we had agreed on, right Madame Pomfrey? " The old woman nodded.

Draco silently fumed. "_Why_?"

"There was nothing that could be done for her here—"

"So you bring someone from St. Mungo's here!" said Draco. "You can't _apparate_ someone's who's just had a head injury! Why don't you just say what it really is that you're doing by sending her over there."

"Mr. Malfoy, I'd appreciate it if you'd—"

"You're trying to keep her blindness under wraps," interrupted Draco, disgusted. "That's why only Potter and I had privilege to see her, we were the only ones that knew."

"You're painting me a bit more evil than I deserve to be portrayed, Mr. Malfoy."

"You've been trying to keep a lot of things quiet, haven't you Headmaster?" he asked rhetorically. "First Blaise Zabini and now Hermione Granger."

Dumbledore paused, and looking over his half-moon spectacles, said "I'm not the only one that has been trying to keep things secret, am I?"

Well that worked. Draco was officially shutting up.

"That being said," continued Dumbledore. "You can't accuse me of trying to keep things quiet. You could have very well gone off and told your whole house of Miss Granger's condition the minute you found out. I did nothing to stop you from doing so."

Draco couldn't help but admit, just to himself, that that made sense.

"You are partially right, Mr. Malfoy," said Dumbledore, striding closer to him. "I _would_ like to keep this as secret as possible, at least until we get a report from the Healer. Rumors at Hogwarts get so out of hand."

"Is it true you've sent fourteen aurors in search of Blaise Zabini?" asked Draco.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "If you subtract ten."

He turned to begin walking to the door. "If it makes you feel better, side-along apparition was the best option we had. The journey by road was far more dangerous, and believe it or not, we can't just beckon a doctor from St. Mungo's at our pleasure."

"But you can beckon four aurors?" asked Draco. Dumbledore stopped and turned around. "Have you at least heard something from them?"

"Not yet, Mr. Malfoy. Not yet," he said, turned around again and finally left.

Draco didn't remember ever feeling so tired. Picking up his backpack filled with medical textbooks of everything ocular, he flung it over his shoulder and walked out of the hospital wing without another word.

He was in for another sleepless night filled with research and anxiety.

Joy.

**AN:** I know it's a lot shorter than usual, but I had to get out that explanation of the blue eyes, and the reviews were seriously inspiring. Now I'm going to ask you for a huge favor.

Please Review? Opinions, feelings, anything! The last chapter gave me AMAZING reviews, honestly guys, I love you. I write for you guys. And finally:

I have a plan for this story. I really do. I know writing this for four years doesn't exactly show that but I do. However, then end to this plan can go two ways. So here's what I have to ask of you, my lovely reviewers!!

After your review, please say whether you want a happy or a sad ending. Now sad doesn't necessarily mean someone's dying or they're not getting together. Just let me know if you want a happily-ever-after or not.

Depending on which one wins, my plan will go that way. They both generally have the same end, but one factor's different. (I guarantee you it's not what you think it is :p lol)

Please review!!

:D


	27. A Transfer of Power

**Chapter 27: A Transfer of Power**

There was a light breeze sweeping through the grounds, and with it, the little piece of information that Hermione Granger had been transferred to St. Mungo's.

Harry was officially every professor's least favorite student and Draco wasn't too far behind. Professors hated it when students fell asleep in class.

"Mr. Malfoy, the answer please?"

Draco, who's face was slowly sliding off his hand and dangerously headed for the desk below, was elbowed awake by Pansy Parkinson.

"I'm sorry, Professor?" he tried.

"The answer, Mr. Malfoy," demanded McGonagall.

Helpless, Draco looked at Pansy, who simply stared back. Draco cursed her uselessness.

He looked to his other side where Dean, because he had been late and no other seat had been available, was seated. Taking a quick, drowsy glance at his notes, he saw a possible response.

"Seven."

At first there was a confused silence. Then an eruption of snickers. McGonagall's eyebrows shot up immediately, and sternly asked "The final ingredient to the Polyjuice Potion is seven?"

Draco could have been embarrassed, but he chose against it. What the hell were they doing talking about the Polyjuice Potion in Seventh Year _Transfiguration_ anyway? In his opinion, the simple fact that they were going over potions ingredients showed that the class was off subject, and the fact that the ingredients were about such an elementary potions proved the professor's ineptitude in teaching anything challenging.

And _why _the hell had seven been written on Thomas' notes anyway?

He glanced at them again, and finally found a reason to give himself a good kick in the shin. The boy had been doing his Arithmacy homework.

"—it if you managed to stay awake in my class. Is that understood? That goes for you, too, Mr. Potter."

Draco glanced over at Boy-Wonder, who mirrored his own tiredness. He was sitting next to Weasley, who was surprisingly looking at Draco with narrowed, contemplative eyes. Draco raised a single, challenging eyebrow. The last thing he needed was Weasley staring dazedly in his direction.

"Sorry Professor McGonagall," mumbled Harry. How Draco wished he still sported the black eye eh gave him.

"Dismissed," said McGonagall curtly. There was a surprised silence while the students decided whether she was joking or not. The class did not end for another twenty minutes.

"I mean it," she said roughly. "You all may leave."

The class awkwardly packed their books and began filing out.

"What is the matter with you?" asked Pansy once they had left the classroom. "You've been falling asleep in every class for the past couple of days."

"Don't exaggerate," growled Draco. "You're not in all of my classes."

A first year bumped into Pansy as she tried to keep up with his long, rushed strides. "Watch it!" she gritted after him. "Bloody kid's lucky he's in Slytherin."

Draco was bored. "Is there something you need Parkinson?" he asked, dodging an oncoming Ravenclaw.

"I just want to make sure you're alright. You know, we used to talk."

"No, we used to fuck. There's a difference."

Flushed, Pansy quickly looked around for anyone who had caught that. "Before that, Draco."

"Funny I don't remember that far back."

"Quit being a prat," she said, and finally took a hold on his arm. Draco turned to look at her, a scowl deeply etched into his face.

"Look," she said. "I'm sorry about what I said to you a while back. You're far from alone—Draco!"

"If that's what you had to say to me, Parkinson," he said when she caught up with his step, "then you're forgiven. Just shut the bloody hell up, and leave me alone."

"I don't understand what's up with you," she said. "You shot daggers with your eyes at me when I told you you were alone, and yet that's what you're striving for. It's like you don't like the sound of what you want."

Hm.

"Parkinson," said Draco, agitated. "You don't know me."

"Oh please," she snarled. "If the new you wouldn't do the things you used to, then I don't know the new you. But that doesn't mean I never knew the old you. In case you haven't forgotten, I've known you my _whole_ life."

"Parkinson, why don't you just shut up and—"

"I know what you're doing," said Pansy in a frustrated, confessing voice. "I know exactly what you've been up to."

Draco spared her a glance. "Oh yeah? And what's that?"

"I'm not the idiot you think I am, and neither is anyone else. You haven't been around Slytherin since you moved to the Head's Common room, so you're not exactly aware of just how much we know."

"And what exactly is that? Found out the name of the last girl I've bed?"

She took a hold of his arm again, but this time her grip held conviction. "Push me away with your frustration all you want, but when the bet is over, don't expect us all to still be there waiting for you."

Draco could only stare. _How had they found out?_

Draco took hold of her upper arm and dragged her the rest of the way to the dungeons, rudely hushing her protests of pain. His frustration had reached a new level of anger and despair. The last thing he needed—the _very_ last _bloody_ thing he needed—was this.

"What are you talking about?" he barked as soon as they were alone.

Pansy furrowed her eyebrows. "You know what I'm talking about."

"No, I don't."

"The bet you have with," she paused, "that you agreed to earlier in the year."

"What about it?" he asked.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "The one where you have to bed Hermione Granger," she said evenly. "Crabbe told us—"

"Us? Who's us?"

Pansy gave him a look. "You can't get mad at him. If anything you should thank him."

Draco was going to kill him. "And why is that?"

"He saved your reputation, Draco," she told him seriously. "After you _carried _Granger to the hospital wing, well, we needed an explanation."

"An explanation," he repeated.

"That's what I said."

"Since when have I ever had to give one of those?"

"You haven't had to yet," said Pansy. "Crabbe did it for you."

"It was none of his business."

"Well if you wanted everyone to think their Slytherin King had gone soft, and for Granger the Gryffindor nonetheless, then I suggest you feel grateful instead of offended."

"How many people know?"

"Slytherin knows."

His stomach dropped. "Slytherin," he repeated.

"We all know. And I wouldn't worry about any other house finding out," she added as an afterthought. "None of us are friends with them anyway, and we all want it to happen so we're not about to go off and give her a warning. Plus," she said flippantly, "Crabbe was specific in that. We should only talk about it in the common room—if anywhere."

"Since when does Slytherin do what Vincent Crabbe says?"

"Since it has to do with you," she said. "He was terribly awkward about it, but everyone was questioning your relationship with the mudblood. Draco Malfoy doesn't carry anyone anywhere. An explanation was _required_."

Draco clenched his jaw. As much as it angered him, she was right. Pansy was an idiot, but she knew Slytherin. _He_ knew Slytherin, and he knew that she was on point.

But, see, things were a little more complicated. If he had really just wanted to bed Hermione, this would not bother him. As a nearly completely anti-social house, Slytherin could keep a secret. Only if they wanted it to be known would they strategically let it slip.

But he didn't want to just bed her anymore. He wanted _her_. He wanted her body, her soul, her books, her temper, her ridiculous hair, her brown eyes…

"It explains why you've been protective of her lately," said Pansy. "It actually explains a lot. Including why you ruined our little prank earlier in the year."

"That was crossing the line," said Draco a little too quickly, but Pansy just scoffed.

"Her existence is crossing the line."

"That was lame."

She ignored him. "All I'm saying, Draco, or what I was saying before you dragged me all the way down to Slytherin, is that you need to be careful. Don't let your pursuit for the mudblood ruin what you already have. She's not worth it. We could only take so much snubbing from you. Keep it up and when all is said and done with Granger, you really will end up alone."

* * *

Harry Potter was awake, lying on his bed with his curtains drawn. With one hand behind his head, he was doing what he had been doing for about a week now: hating himself.

The dormitory room opened, but Harry remained motionless. "He's in there," he heard Ron say, and Harry groaned. He had an idea of what was coming.

"Thanks," came a light voice, and the door was closed. Harry heard the approaching footsteps and briefly wondered if he should pretend to be sleeping. But, before he could come to a decision, his curtains were drawn to reveal his girlfriend and her worried eyes.

"Hey?" she tried. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"I've been busy."

She took a breath. "Harry—" she started, but he didn't let her finish.

"And since I've been so hard at work I need to get some rest. Close the door on your way out, will you?"

"I'm not leaving," she said seriously. "This is getting ridiculous, Harry. Everyone is so worried you're going to commit suicide or something."

"I won't," answered Harry flatly.

"You're blaming yourself too much."

"Parvati, I need to be alone."

"You've had enough time alone, Harry. You've been ignoring everyone for about a week now. It's high time you started talking to the people who care about you."

Harry didn't respond. Some childish, responsibility-avoiding part of him wanted to blame Parvati for everything. He tackled Hermione because they weren't on good terms. They weren't on good terms because he had moved out of the Head's common room. He had moved out of the Head's common room because he wanted to be closer to Parvati. He wanted to be closer with her because he was in love with her and that is how Hermione's current condition could be traced back to the blonde that was currently at his bed.

But the truth was that Parvati wasn't the one who tackled Hermione. She wasn't the reason why his old best friend was blind. God, he hated himself.

"You're blaming yourself more than you should," she said. "We're all sure she's going to regain sight."

"Are you?" scoffed Harry. "Well that good."

"Don't be sour, Harry. You tackled her roughly, yes, but don't you think the Slytherins would have done the same, if not worse?"

"You want me to be honest?" asked Harry as Parvati moved his leg to the side and sat down.

"Of course I do."

"Then no. They would have given her the rough time I gave her in the first _minute_, but then that's as far as they would have gone."

Parvati snorted. "They're bloody Slytherins, Harry. You know they wouldn't have stopped at all."

"Even if that were true, which it could be," said Harry, "there is still the fact that if Hermione had been on our side, we would have protected her better."

"She wanted to play. It's part of the sport."

"No, you don't get it. When they stopped passing to Hermione it was because she was the one getting all the rough play. And guess who was giving it to her?"

"I saw Ron and Seamus tackler her, too," she said gently. Harry didn't deign that comment with a response. They didn't tackled her like he had, everyone knew it.

"Parvati," he said. "Slytherin didn't protect her from me because it wasn't in their nature to. She wasn't one of them. If she had been with us, Slytherin could have come charging with all its might, we would have eased it up."

"You couldn't have protected her the whole time, Harry."

"None of the Slytherin blokes would have charged at her when she didn't even have the ball. They've always been more greedy than they have been evil. They want to win more than they want to hurt."

"You don't even know if she's permanently blind!" said Parvati, desperate to give him any comfort. Clearly, Harry had rerun the events from every angle. He had thought of everything, and when someone is that expert at something they believe in, it's hard to prove them wrong.

"Her eyes were blue."

"That doesn't mean anything," sighed Parvati. "We live in a _magical_ world, for goodness sake! For all we know she's had her sight recovered for days now, but wants to milk the situation for all it's worth—"

"You know as well as I do that Hermione isn't like that," said Harry, and allowed a small smile to form on his lips. The first one in days. "She'd _freak_ about school work. She'd want to come back as soon as possible."

"People can change," said Parvati weakly. "Maybe she just needs rest?"

"Rest," repeated Harry. "Parvati, they wouldn't transfer her to St. Mungo's if all she needed was rest."

"Harry you don't know!" she said exasperated. "All I'm saying is that you need to start _living_ again, talking with people, _eating_—you need to start eating regularly again. Baby," she rubbed his leg. "I'm worried for you."

"I just need to be alone," said Harry, looking at the ceiling. "It'll pass as soon as I know about Hermione."

"Hasn't Dumbledore told you anything?"

"Nothing," said Harry bitterly. "It isn't the first time he's done this, either."

"Have you gone to his office?"

"Every day."

"Have you spoken with him?" asked Parvati.

"Yeah. Said he hasn't heard from St. Mungo's but that if he were me, he wouldn't worry. After all, there was no point in worrying over something that no one has any control over anymore."

"Oh, the _nerve_—"

"He's right. But I know he's kept up with her condition. Certainly he knows how bad off she is, but he's not telling me because he doesn't want me to kill myself or something."

"Harry!" said Parvati, pinching his leg. "Don't talk like that!"

"Everyone's thinking that," said Harry. "You said so yourself when you first came in."

"I was joking."

"Not entirely."

Parvati sighed. "Promise me you won't, anyway?"

"See?" said Harry. "You're here on suicide prevention."

"I'm here because I love you, and I _miss_ you," she answered back venomously. "Don't accuse me of being part of a conspiracy that doesn't exist. I've been patient enough, dammit! You've ignored me completely for days and I can't take it anymore! I want you back—"

"You've got to be kidding me!" said Harry, amazed. "My best friend is _blind_. It's _my_ fault—"

"It's not your fault and she's not even your best friend anymore!"

Harry clenched his jaw. "And whose fault is that?"

"Oh don't go blaming me now," said Parvati. "I didn't leave her to the claws of Malfoy, you did!"

"You knew he would be my replacement! I talked to you about it! You're the one who convinced me to go through with it!"

"Right, but who actually did it?"

"B-Because you asked me to!" stuttered Harry. "I wouldn't have if you hadn't asked me to—"

"And it turned out fine didn't it?" cut Parvati softly. "They seemed to be getting along just fine—more than fine by the way he took her to the Hospital Wing."

Harry scowled. If there was one thing he hated more than having tackled Hermione, it was having reacted too slowly to be the one to take her to Madame Pomfrey.

"I understand you're going through a tough time," said Parvati. "I just want to know how long it's going to take."

Harry's eyebrows rose significantly. Suddenly, the Parvati he had previously disliked was showing, and she was as selfish and as bratty as ever.

"You're not serious."

"I am," she said, crossing her arms. "I want to know how long it will take before you're back."

"I'm _right here_," said Harry, astonished. "I'm right _bloody_ here."

"Don't swear at me! Hermione wasn't my best friend she was yours."

"You were her roommate for six years," said Harry. "She didn't grow on you the smallest bit?"

Her eyes softened immediately. "Of course she did. But she was—different."

"Different how?"

"She was never interested in any conversation Lavender or I tried starting with her. Not clothes, boys, makeup, the horrors of schoolwork—nothing!"

Harry looked at his girlfriend, wondering what possessed him to date her. "Well of course she wouldn't participate in those conversations. They're mindless."

"Oh, right, I forgot. Any sort of typical girl talk is far below Hermione Granger's interests. Everything with her has to be a brainy conversation—"

"Where are you getting at?" bit Harry angrily.

Parvati was positively sizzling. Staring dead on to Harry's emerald eyes, she said "I never cared much for Hermione. Not any more than usual, and not any less. That is, until she stole you from me."

Now he was really confused. "What?"

"I'm sad for Hermione, believe me I am. And I have a lot to thank her for, I know that much. But I'm in love with you Harry Potter, and lately, you've slipped away to a place where I can't reach you. And it's because of her. I can't help but—"

"Get out," snarled Harry. Parvati blinked, certain she hadn't heard correctly. "Yeah, you heard me," continued Harry. "Get out. I don't want to see you right now."

"What?"

"You're being an insensitive _bitch_. Get out."

Parvati clenched her jaw, and shoved his leg hard before getting up and storming out, slamming the door loudly behind her.

Harry took one of his pillows and threw it in the general direction of the door, only to bounce off the still drawn curtains.

He heard the door open again, and groaned loudly. "I'm not going to kill myself, go away!"

There was a moment of silence.

"Good," came Parvati's voice, and then another slam of the door.

Harry couldn't help but smile a little.

* * *

Ginny was sitting under a tree, a book lay open on her lap. Her head leaned against the trunk and her eyes were closed.

She needed a nap. After heavily debating the extent of Harry's guilt, and trying to get Harry out of his nest, she was exhausted. Homework did not compare to the responsibilities of being a house member.

It was quick, and sudden. She felt someone take the book from her lap, and her eyes flashed open to see a platinum blonde walking away.

"What the—hey!" she shouted after him. "I was reading that!"

"No, you were sleeping," said Draco loudly over his shoulder.

"I was _resting_ my eyes—" she said, getting up and walking after him.

"Classic. I suggest you get back to it."

"And I suggest you give me my damned book back!"

"Or what?" asked Draco carelessly.

"Or that bloody librarian's gonna have a cow if I don't return it."

"I fail to realize how that is my problem," he said smoothly.

"Oh for fuckssake, Malfoy," spat Ginny, causing Draco to stop and look at her in mild amusement. "Don't make this a hassle. Just give me my book."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "This one?" he asked, holding it up.

Ginny shot him a death glare. She knew she couldn't reach it, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of proving it. "Yes, that one."

Draco licked his lips and looked around, bored. Tucking the book to his chest, he said: "Alright, how's this," he paused. "I'm not used to being so diplomatic, but what the hell. How about I return it to the library when I'm done with it? That way I get to use it, and you can stop following me around Hogwarts like a first year with a crush."

Ginny crossed her arms over her chest, eyebrows quickly rising. "Come again?" Draco was going to respond, but Ginny cut him off. "You conceited, good-for-nothing prat! You call that being diplomatic?!"

"Easy there She-Weasley," said Draco, mockingly charming. "Your tone is hitting notes only dogs could hear."

"So you should be hearing me perfectly," she snapped. "I won't be bullied, Malfoy. Give me the book. I'm doing research."

Draco scoffed. "You wouldn't know how to spell the damned word."

Ginny turned red with anger. "Insult me all you want, but in a few moments I'm going to fully lose my patience and hex you into next week."

Draco gave her a once-over. "I don't like wasting time."

Ginny shrugged. "Then give me my book back. I could do this all day, Malfoy."

"You have nothing better to do, Weasley, really?" asked Draco earnestly. "Couldn't you just fuck off for one day? I'll return the book to—"

"Why do you want a book on recent magical discoveries in optometry?" asked Ginny. "You're not the one with a blind friend."

"And why do you want it? You think you can help Granger?" he smirked.

Ginny turned slightly pink. "I just want to know what's the matter with her. It doesn't make any sense that she's been sent to St. Mungo's for a non-magical injury."

"You can take that up with Potter and Pomfrey."

"Pomfrey?" asked Ginny, interested. "Did she mess up on Hermione? Is that it?"

Draco chuckled. "It amuses me that you're so ready to ignore Potter's fault in this."

"I'm not ignoring it," Ginny growled. "I just already know what he did. You mentioned Pomfrey, though. What did she do?" She narrowed her eyes. "What do you know that I don't?"

"More than you could ever comprehend."

"Quit being an arse. If you're not going to answer that question then at least answer the first one. Why do you want that book, Malfoy?"

Draco's features darkened, and Ginny, regardless of her hot-headed bravery, paled slightly at his glare.

"Let's get one thing straight here, Weasley," snarled Draco. "I don't have to explain myself to you—ever. What I need this book for is none of your bloody business. I could need it for an assignment, reading, or for the fire in my new common room. Point is, I need it, and that's all there's to it."

"Your threats don't work with me, Malfoy," she said, with little conviction. "They work with everyone else—"

"Shut up," he said tiredly. "Just shut the hell up, I've felt my intelligence drop since I've started this conversation."

"Funny I didn't think that was possible," said Ginny.

"Original," said Draco sarcastically, turning to walk away. Ginny grabbled his elbow and he turned to face her, disgusted. "Get _off me_, Weasley."

"Oh fuck off, I only touched your—"

"Draco!"

Both turned around to see the running figure of Lavender Brown, and curiously enough, both groaned miserably.

"Fuck my life," murmured Draco, looking around for an excuse to avoid her, but she had reached him before he knew it.

"Draco," she breathed. "I've been looking for you, like, everywhere! What are you doing with Ron's sister?"

Ginny cocked an eyebrow. She should have known Lavender would be condescending around Malfoy. "He stole my book and won't—"

"That's terrible," cut Lavender, and Ginny was reminded of how much of a traitor she could be when it came to Malfoy. "Want to go for a walk?" she offered.

"No," said Draco simply, and Ginny bit her lip not to laugh.

"Oh," breathed Lavender, before shooting Ginny a glare. "Am I interrupting something?"

Ginny rolled her eyes and muttered a "give me a break."

"Brown, what do you want?" asked Draco harshly.

She blushed lightly. "I have a message for you," she said cautiously.

"What is it?" asked Draco, bored.

"No," said Lavender, as if just remembering. "It's for you," she said, looking at Ginny.

"Me?"

"Yeah," she said.

"Well what is it?" asked Ginny impatiently.

"Dumbledore wants to see you. It's about Hermione."

"_What_?" asked both Ginny and Draco. Ginny made a mental note, and Draco cursed himself for not having more control.

"Jesus, Lavender, how could you have possibly waited this long to tell me?!" yelled Ginny. "Offering to go on a bloody walk with—Malfoy," she said with difficulty, rushing back to the tree to pick up her bag. She ran back to Malfoy.

"Return the book when you're done with it or it'll be your head before it is mine," she said, rushed. And with that, she ran off to the castle.

Draco nodded dumbly, his head swirling with anxiety to know what the latest news about Hermione was.

Lavender giggled at the sight of her leaving.

"What's so funny?" asked Draco, bitter to be reminded of her presence.

"Oh nothing," she said, too innocent. "Just that there is no such message from Dumbledore."

"Pardon?"

She shrugged. "I made it up," she giggled.

Draco opened his mouth to say something, but found himself lacking words that matched the mixture of anger and disappointment that invaded him.

"Oh, relax. Dumbledore isn't here today. She won't make a fool of herself or anything."

"I couldn't care less if she made a fool of herself," said Draco. "But Granger's situation is—serious."

Lavender crossed her arms. "And since when do you care for Hermione's situation? I thought you two were sworn enemies, and then you go off and carry her to the hospital wing like a prince in shining armor."

"And people wonder why Slytherins don't do nice things."

"Oh no, I thought it was great," gushed Lavender. "I didn't judge you for it at all. Everyone else did—thought you had ulterior motives. Like Ginny. She actually said—"

Draco was bored, and he turned around to begin walking back to the castle. To his dismay, she followed.

"—and I was telling my whole common room that you were actually a kind person—"

"No I'm not," said Draco flatly. "And please, leave me the fuck alone."

"Draco! I sent Ginny away for a reason! I wanted to talk to you."

"But since we have nothing to talk about, I will be making my way—alone—back to the library."

Lavender's cheeks flushed at the blunt rejection, but she wasn't giving up. For the longest time, she had been dreaming of such an opportunity, and she wasn't about to let it go to waste.

Draco opened the castle doors and walked in, not bothering to hold the door for Lavender.

"Draco," she said. "Could you just wait a minute?"

Draco clenched his jaw. Maybe if he didn't say anything she would leave. Where was that Gryffindor pride when he needed it? For months he had cursed it because of Hermione. And now, he prayed for it.

He felt a grip on his arm, the third of the day. Furious that she had touched him, he spun around with his mind set on reminding her of her place. But the moment he did that, Lavender, the tall beauty she was, pressed her lips onto his. Her other hand went for his neck. More out of instinct than anything else, Draco used his free hand to pull her hard against him, and walked her to the nearest wall. The same hand snaked it's way to her theigh, and he pulled on her only to slam her against the wall again. He hadn't noticed just how sexually frustrated he was until that moment, and he couldn't help but revel in the familiar feeling of a woman.

He kissed her hard, and she whimpered. He smirked and moved down to her neck.

"Draco," she called throatily. "Broom closet, right behind you."

Draco quickly separated from her and turned to the said broom closet. He went to open it, Lavender right behind him looking around for any witnesses. And that's when he realized.

The hand that went to open the door was still holding the book.

The amount of guilt that washed over him was staggering. He had a girlfriend. Hermione was his girlfriend, and he had just…

"What's wrong?" whispered Lavender, putting a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off roughly.

"Don't touch me," he snarled, and gripping the book with all his might, he spun around and walked away as fast as he could.

He was scum. His girlfriend was in the hospital and he had just put his tongue in another girl's mouth. And, he had liked it.

A lot.

Draco ran his free hand through his hair in frustration. He needed to think. Regardless of it all, he couldn't help but notice that he hadn't had sex in a while. In months, to be exact, and that was damn near debilitating now that he thought about it. And then Brown came and just…

He didn't like her at all. She was on his top 5 most annoying girlfriends list. And yet, the feel of her exposed skin at the mercy of his hands, the sounds of her short breaths, they reminded him all too much of what he was missing.

He and Hermione had definitely had their sessions, but Brown had been all to willing to satisfy him completely. Hermione always stopped him, and to have someone so easily offer what he'd been after for so long was hard to resist.

_Draco came in through the portrait, satiated from dinner._

"_What are those?" he asked flatly, pointing at flowers in the vase on Hermione's desk._

"_Flowers," she said, without looking up from her homework._

"_From?"_

"_Terry."_

_He walked up to them. "They're nice," he said. "Carnations."_

_Hermione just turned the page of whatever textbook she was using, and Draco easily reached within his robes for his wand and lit them on fire. The black ashes sprinkled onto Hermione's homework. She looked up._

"_Was that necessary?" she asked._

"_Why were they on your desk?" he answered. _

"_Because he's given me so many I started feeling guilty—"_

"_What for?"_

"_For throwing away so many flowers! It's such a toll on nature and I'm not even appreciating them."_

"_You're not appreciating them because you shouldn't," he explained. _

"_Why are you so upset?" she asked sourly. She hated being addressed like a child. "They're just flowers."_

"_Hermione, they're flowers from another bloke. Do you expect me to be alright with that?"_

"_You're okay with me accepting them."_

"_No, I'm not. But I can't do anything about it, can I? If I punch the daylights out of him—"_

"_It'll be obvious," finished Hermione. "Look," she sighed. "I don't like him. You know that. But we agreed that accepting the flowers would only help our hiding. I'm not leading him on. I've even dropped hints that he should stop, so don't worry about him. He'll stop eventually."_

"_And till then you're going to put his flowers in vases?" he sneered._

_Hermione smiled._

"_Are you?" he pressed._

"_Yeah," she said easily, turning back to her homework. "I don't see why perfectly healthy flowers should be thrown away before their time."_

"_They're going to be thrown away anyway—"_

"_Don't be difficult, Draco—"_

"_Difficult? Forgive me if I don't want my girlfriend keeping another bloke's flowers."_

"_Don't make it sound like I'm keeping them for romantic purposes."_

"_I don't want to see those flowers anywhere other than in the garb—"_

_She did it more to shut him up than for anything else. Abruptly standing up, she took a hold of his face, Hermione brought it down to hers and placed her lips on his. He froze for only a moment, in surprise, but recuperated quickly._

_He placed one hand on the small of her back and pulled her toward him, using the other to take a hold of her bum and lift it her up. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist, and Draco began kissing her more urgently._

_He wanted her, every bit of her. He had wanted her for so long, and there she was, in his arms, at his disposal…_

_He walked as best he could towards the couch, and tumbled onto it, careful not to hurt her. She smiled condescendingly onto his lips, knowing just what he had set his hopes on. She placed a gentle hand on his chest, slowly pushing away._

_But Draco would have none of it. He placed himself more comfortably, drew himself closer to her as he slid his hands down her torso and back up, cupping her breasts._

_A moan escaped from Hermione's throat, tightening the hold her legs have on his waist. Draco's breathing hardened and his kiss became more aggressive._

_She didn't protest when he pulled her up and yanked off her robes, or when he unfastened the buttons of her blouse. In the heat of the moment, she did the same to him, and Draco didn't even stop to smirk. He's too caught up in his passion to think, see, or taste anything other than Hermione._

_Draco's hands make their way down to the top of her skirt, tugging her shirt upward. He slid his hands under, relishing in the feel of her—_

"Malfoy!"

Really, was there no mercy in this world?

"Malfoy!"

Draco, just a few meters away from the library, turned to see a jogging Ginny Weasley stopping to catch her breath. He groaned.

"Weasley you already agreed to let me return the book. Don't pester me for it now."

She sent him a glare. "It has nothing to do," she breathed, "with the book that you _better_ return or you're dead."

"Then with what?" asked Draco impatiently. "You're not about to blame me for the wild goose-chase Brown sent you on, because I actually had _nothing_—"

Ginny mustered the energy to scowl. "I found her crying by a broom closet on my way out to find you. I could have _killed_ her when I realized Dumbledore wasn't even in his office. Lavender's such a traitor when it comes to you," she spat.

"Weasley, I really don't give a crap about your house melodrama."

Ginny was annoyed. "You know, I run all over the school looking for you and this is how you treat me. I really don't know what I was expecting."

"Neither do I," said Draco, and turned to walk into the library.

"You're joking," said Ginny. "You're not in the least bit curious as to why I've sought you out?"

Draco turned around and raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"Use your words, Malfoy."

He scowled. "What information could you possibly want to give me?"

It was true. He was Draco Malfoy and she was a part of the weasel clan. Having Ginny Weasley talk to him out of her own will was confusing and unwanted.

"You're seriously making me reconsider my gesture."

"You call this a gesture? I need to go to the library. You're stopping me. This to you is nice?"

Ginny stared. "I'm just going to get on with it before you actually change my mind."

Draco gave her an empty smile. "That would be lovely."

She glared, took a deep breath, and started. "When Lavender told me that Dumbledore wanted to talk to me about Hermione—which now that I think about it doesn't make sense because Harry or Ron would've been the ones he'd send for—I, well you saw me, I ran as fast as I could. Anything about Hermione is crucial. But as you already know, I got there—no Dumbledore."

"Get to the point, Weas—"

"_But_," she interrupted, "on my way out Dumbledore was arriving."

Draco's face lost all impatience. "Oh," he said. "And?"

It was really all his suspense would let him get out.

Ginny crossed her arms, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "Let's get one thing straight here: I hate you. I hate your house, I hate that you're like their king, I hate that so many girls think you're worth anything more than the sod on my shoes, and I hate that you were the one to carry Hermione to the Hospital Wing. Everyone else was confused about it—like you were doing it out of the kindness of your heart or something—but I know what your intentions were behind the act. You don't fool me, Malfoy, I know you're nothing short of scum." She inhaled loudly. "However," she exhaled, "I, unlike you, have a conscious and it's that, more than any sympathy for you, that's driven me to seek you out."

Draco just looked at her, not wanting to say anything that would further stall her answer.

"What, aren't you going to say anything?" asked Ginny, and Draco growled. "Surely something in that monologue must have angered you. Insulted you?"

"Weasley!" he shouted, starling her. "What did Dumbledore say?!"

"Uh—I—"

"You were walking away from Dumbledore's office and…" he angrily helped.

"I just—well, he—he was with Zabini. He's back and I—I thought you should know. I thought you needed to know. You've looked like shit ever since he's been gone."

Draco's lips parted in shock.

"Or for the greater part of it, anyway," mused Ginny, and Draco had a feeling she had sought him out just to see him gape like a fish out of water.

"Hello?" asked Ginny, taking a step closer and waving her hand in front of his face. "You didn't, like, die of shock or something right?"

He shut his mouth and tried glaring at her, but couldn't bring himself to care enough to do so. Was Blaise really back?

"Malfoy," said Ginny, actually alarmed. "Are you alright?"

He went to open his mouth, but not a single part of his body was listening to his brain. He couldn't care less about saving face and insulting her. He wanted to run to Dumbledore's office and…

And it happened.

In a blink of an eye, Draco was off, sprinting up flights of stairs, dodging oncoming students, and pushing others. He didn't care on a regular basis, why would he now?

It wasn't long at all before Draco found himself in front of Dumbledore's gargoyle.

"Password."

Draco was breathing hard, thinking too fast and therefore not thinking at all. "Uh…Harry Potter?"

"Incorrect." Of course it was; what the hell was he thinking? It was always candy.

"Pumpkin juice." That wasn't a candy.

"Incorrect."

"Pixie."

Draco's eyebrows furrowed. He had not wanted to say pixie.

"Incorrect."

Clenching his jaw with determination, Draco concentrated on his next attempt. His last.

_Lemon Drops, lemon drops…_

"Unicorn."

Draco's eyes widened before they narrowed viciously. So, there was a confundus charm involved.

He quickly spun around, expecting someone to be lurking somewhere with his or her wand pointed at him.

There wasn't anyone.

He swore, loudly. "Dumbledore and his bloody brilliance."

The gargoyle began shifting, and some part of Draco thought that admitting Dumbledore to be a genius was the password. He was about to sneer when he heard footsteps. Steady, heavy, footsteps. Before he could even think to hide, or to come up with an excuse as to why he was there, Blaise Zabini came to view.

He stopped short at the sight of Draco, looking more disheveled than Draco had ever remembered him looking.

Blaise's black hair hung loosely about his dirty face, the hem of his robes filled with loose threads, grass stains and mud.

Draco felt he should say something. It's been months after all.

"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded.

Blaise smirked, amused. "Around."

"You could have told someone don't you think?"

"I couldn't agree more, Mr. Malfoy," said Snape, suddenly appearing behind Blaise. "But you can harass Mr. Zabini for an explanation after he's cleaned up. He's in no state for it now."

"Of course, Professor Snape," said Draco, and stepped aside.

* * *

Ron entered his dormitory with great ceremony, raising the tray of food as if he were about to save the day.

"Mr. Potter, I've managed to sneak you a little something from the kitchens—"

"—I'm not hungry, Ron, thanks," mumbled Harry, returning to staring blankly at a book

Ron's face immediately fell to the somber lines of a realist. "Mate, you need to eat. Quit being an angsty prick and have some of this stuff."

"I said I wasn't hungry," repeated Harry. "And I'm not being an angsty prick."

Ron snorted. "Right. You staying cooped up in your bed all day, refusing food _and_ company, is the epitome of social."

Harry didn't say anything, and continued staring at his book.

"If you're still on page 32 of that blasted textbook, I'm going to personally sock you a good one in the face."

"Be my guest. We both know I deserve it."

"Would you like me to cast an unforgivable on you, too? At this point I honestly wouldn't be surprised if it's crossed your mind."

Harry looked up at Ron blankly. "It has now."

"Quit being an arse Harry," said Ron quickly, frustrated. "We all know you're sorry, that you didn't mean it, and that if you had a second chance you wouldn't do it again."

"Yeah but does she know that?" asked Harry, looking at Ron as if he had the answer.

With a frustrated growl, Ron walked up to Harry's bed and shoved the tray of food on it. "Do what you want with it," he said, and stormed out.

Somberly looking at the sandwich and bowl of fruit on the plate, Harry reached out and dragged it closer.

He didn't finish any of it.

* * *

Draco was sitting in the common room, leaned back and sunk in. He had sent message with a first year that Blaise was to meet him at the Head's Common room at eight. It was 8:15, and Draco was openly stressed. It seemed that the more time passed, the less he was able to preserve his cool exterior.

Seventh year was really turning out to be a wretched year. Definitely not the blissful last year he was promised.

A knock came to the portrait door, and Draco quickly got up to open it.

"Malfoy," smirked Blaise.

As comforting as it was to see that Blaise's sense of humor was still intact, Draco couldn't remember a time when it was more out of place.

"Get in," he sneered.

Blaise stepped in. "I don't think that's any way to receive a long lost friend," he smiled.

The portrait closed and Draco turned to look at Blaise incredulously. "How could you be so bloody cheery? You've been missing for months, and it's not like you went on vacation from the looks of you an hour ago."

"Let me get this straight," said Blaise, plopping down full-length on the sofa. "You're angry that I'm happy?"

Draco wasn't going to bother answering that. "Where were you?" he said instead.

"Easy there, mum. Just went about to play a bit. I'm home now, no need to worry."

Draco glared at him. "I'm not being a prissy old hag—"

"You think my mum's a prissy old hag?"

"No, of course I don't—"

"I called you mum, not prissy old hag. What's a bloke supposed to think? He says mum and his best mate relates that to—"

"Could you shut up! Be serious for once!"

Blaise raised his chin. "Never was and never will be a Black."

Draco stared at him for a few moments, not understanding the random reference.

_Oh, Sirius Black_. _What an idiot_.

"Stop being an idiot," said Draco, seriously. "What happened? Why were you gone for so long?"

Blaise's eyes flashed dark. "You always were a killjoy."

"Blaise," said Draco, walking to the chair across and slowly taking a seat. "What happened in Scotland?"

"I ran into a little trouble," murmured Blaise.

"What trouble? Christ, Blaise, you've been gone since the holidays!"

"I'm aware of how long I've been gone, thank you, I was there," cut Blaise sharply. "But I'm back now, and that's all that matters now, isn't it?"

Draco's face contorted into a mix of confusion and disgust. "Is that something Dumbledore said?"

"No."

"Sounds like it. I'm assuming you had to tell _him_ what you were up to at least?"

Blaise sat up. "No. I didn't tell him a thing."

"So he figured it out then?"

"Most of it," he said, looking at his hands and not all happy at that fact.

"Did he bring you back?"

Blaise looked up. "He found me, yes."

Draco's gaze bored into his. "Were you hiding?"

Blaise sneered. "You could call it that."

"From what?" asked Draco. "What could be so bad that would keep you away from _Hogwarts_, the safest bloody place we know!"

Blaise leaned back and raised his arms to rest on sofa. "Well that's the golden question now isn't it?"

"I asked it, so answer it."

"I'd rather not."

Draco swore, but didn't push it. Slytherins weren't exactly the type to pry for the benefit of others. He'd get it out of him soon enough.

"How's Granger?" Blaise asked, too casually.

"She's fine," answered Draco carefully.

"I see you've made progress."

Draco clenched his jaw. "You could call it that."

"Did she get you these sweet arrangements?" asked Blaise, his eyes flicking to Draco's chest. "I don't see you wearing a badge, though we all know it's rightfully yours."

Draco shook his head. "She had nothing to do with my moving into Heads quarters."

"So you imposed yourself here."

"Not really," muttered Draco.

"I'm not following."

Sighing, he said "Potter moved back to Gryffindor on his own will. I was," he paused, trying to remember the right words "the next deserving candidate."

"And he knew you'd be taking up his quarters?"

"Yeah."

Blaise's eyes filled with amusement. "Potter left his precious Granger in the hands of a Slytherin." He threw his head back and laughed. "Potter could be so stupid."

"A bloody dimwit," agreed Draco passionately, though for different reasons.

"Have you bed her yet? Or has my absence been a distraction?"

"No I haven't," mumbled Draco. Blaise's eyes went bright.

"So I'm winning? Mate, you live next door to her. If you can't bed her in these circumstances, it's because you just can't."

Draco clenched his jaw and remained silent. Blaise looked at him oddly, and with suspicious eyes added "And if it's not that you can't, it's because you won't."

Draco looked at Blaise but said nothing.

"If it's the latter," continued Blaise, "I hope it's because you can't stand her mudblood stench."

"That's definitely not it," bit out Draco.

"Don't tell me you've taken a bloody _liking_ to Granger," said Blaise, disgusted.

"Blaise," said Draco, resigned. "A lot has happened since the holidays that you don't know. We need to talk."

"What about?" he asked tensely.

"The bet," said Draco. "Everyone knows."

"What do you mean everyone knows?" asked Blaise, startled.

"I mean Slytherin knows," said Draco, and Blaise relaxed, but only slightly.

"That's not as bad, but it still isn't good," he muttered. "How did they find out?"

"Long story short, Crabbe had to explain something I did."

"For Granger?"

"Yeah."

Blaise shut his eyes tight. "Everyone's supposed to find out about the los of her virginity, but not necessarily about the bet. How much do they know?"

"I don't know," confessed Draco. "And though I trust Slytherin not to tell anyone about the bet, I can't trust that they won't hint at it."

Blaise ran a stressed hand through his hair. "This is bad Draco. No one's supposed to know about the bet until after I win."

"Blaise," cut Draco heavily. "I want to call it off."

Blaise froze. "What?"

"I want to call it off. There's too much at stake—"

"It's a _bet_."

"It's a bad one," said Draco sharply. "Neither one of us can give our father's encyclopedia of the Dark Arts to the other, Blaise, let's face it. It was a stupid bet that's been spread too far and too wide—"

"You're just sour because you're losing," accused Blaise.

"I have never backed out of a bet, and you know it."

"So why are you starting now?"

"Blaise," reasoned Draco, "this is going down a bad direction." Blaise scoffed and Draco continued. "I'm asking you as a friend to call it off and leave it as if it was never made."

"If the bet doesn't happen then what of Crabbe's explanation for whatever it was that you did for Granger?"

"We're about to graduate. Honestly I don't care."

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Draco knew they had been the wrong ones.

"You don't care?" repeated Blaise disbelievingly. "You don't care what Slytherin thinks of you?"

"That's not what I meant, you know that," bit out Draco.

"No," cut Blaise. "But you know what I _have_ known for a while?"

"What?" asked Draco flatly.

"You like her," accused Blaise. "You like the mudblood, Gryffindor princess."

"No," said Draco, too quickly.

"Yes," said Blaise, shifting forward. "You'd always had a special preference for her. At first I thought it was sheer hatred because she was Potter's friend; but it was all just teasing so I paid no mind to it. Then I saw you corner her sixth year. You told me to leave but you didn't tell me where to." Blaise scoffed. "I listened to you then. Your word was law. What's it now Draco? Or haven't you noticed you've lost your touch? Your power over Slytherin has decreased significantly since the last time I was here."

"I did tell you a lot changed," snarled Draco. "But my hold over Slytherin is not one of them. I still get the last word."

"But not the first," said Blaise. "That day over a year ago you told me to leave and I did. You talked to me like I was a street dog and I took it because you," he spread out his arms ceremoniously, "were Draco Malfoy. King of Slytherin and the number one lady-killer of Hogwarts. You were practically," he dropped his arms and drawled the next word, "legendary."

Draco straightened, jaw clenched.

"But that day," continued Blaise. "That day things changed slightly for me. I peeked around the corner and saw you _willingly_ kissing Granger. Albeit _she_ wasn't exactly willing, but you," he paused for the right word. "You were practically caressing her. Granger. The witch you claimed caused you nausea at the mere sight of her. To top things off it wasn't until she pushed you off that you were remotely rude to her, and then you practically told her you wanted her. You told tight-arse, prude Granger that she'd 'fall like they all do'. Admit it, Draco," said Blaise venomously, "you were going after Granger way before the bet. And somewhere in between then and now, she started getting to you. I noticed it, but I discarded it as an obsession that came with wanting to win. Still, I confronted you about it. I warned you that Slytherin would never stand for such treachery, but you always said you were doing it to win. You were doing it for the bet."

Blaise sat back, a malicious sneer across his face. "I knew better then, and I know better now. So don't pretend that the reason you want to cancel it is because Slytherin knows—Slytherin's not gonna tell. Hell, it wouldn't matter if the entire school found out so long as Granger didn't and you got to bed her. The truth is you want to cancel that bet because you've fallen for the frizzy-haired mudblood. You want her the way you should want Pansy or Denise or any proper Slytherin Pureblood, and you know what Draco? We're not going to allow it."

"Not going to allow what?" asked Draco, almost resentfully. "I'll date whoever I want—"

"Oh it's not the dating Draco," said Blaise calmly. "You've dated plenty Gryffindor mudbloods in the past, but you've disgraced them all, as we knew you would. No, we don't have a say in who you date and trash, but you're off your rocker if you think Slytherin doesn't have a say in who you fall in love with."

Draco looked at his best friend dead in they eye when he said "I'll be with whoever I want to be with."

Blaise's jaw clenched as he rose from his seat. "Over my dead body, Malfoy."

* * *

**A.N:** Did Draco just do something semi-good? What?

So it's been a while, but I'm working at it. I will NOT give up on this story, and I hope you all won't either. I do apologize, as I always will. Please forgive me, but I've turned into this slow meticulous writer that deletes PAGES at a time. I know, it annoys me too.

The incident that Blaise referred to in that last scene can be found in italics in chapter ONE, written a million years ago :( It's a flashback, so if you all forgot, there it is. Oh and how great is it that Blaise is alive? The explanation of what that kid will be in the next chapter. Sigh...I've been writing this story for so long, and it's coming to an end. Honestly, I don't know if I'll ever write fanfiction again after this one, and this one is so close to the end :(

At least it'll be a good story, won't it? Oh you guys think you know what's comming *chuckles evilly* You guys have no idea. Stick around...

But most importantly review. I'll take it all--trash talk (please be constructive in your trash talk), praises, gifts, bows, proposals of marriage... Just let me know there are readers out there that read this story. They motivate me to write, and so close to the end, I just need that little push and I'm rollin...

I love you all. This sounds cheesy and retarded, but you guys are my readers, my strength behind my passion. That sounded even cheesier.

Anyhow, go! Review! P-L-E-A-S-E!! (That was for old time's sake.)


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

The Great Hall was bustling with spirit. Blaise Zabini was back, and by the state of his gaunt face and slimmed figure, there was a story behind it—a big one. It was obvious his disappearance wasn't rebellion or due to family matters, but due to so much more. Rumors of fantastical rescues by forty, fifty, one hundred aurors did away with any trace of truth. The only thing Hogwarts seemed to get right about Blaise Zabini's legendary disappearance was the location.

"Scotland never seemed like a dangerous place before," said Neville pensively, pouring pumpkin juice into his cup. "Just so strange how changed he is, isn't it?"

"Couldn't've said it better myself," said Dean, taking the pumpkin juice from Neville to pour some into his own cup. He looked over his shoulder at the Slytherin table. "I mean, he must have lost at least twenty pounds!"

"And his hair's so long," commented Ginny. "Wherever he was, it doesn't look like he was there willingly."

"Don't jump on that rumor bandwagon," warned Dean.

"I'm not jumping on anything," said Ginny defensively. "You take a good look at him and tell me if he was on vacation."

"The lad does look like he just got out of Azkaban," said Seamus, stealing a glance over his shoulder. "And no one willingly goes to that place."

"What do you think will happen to his schooling?" asked Neville, his food and pumpkin juice, untouched. "He must be impossibly behind. Do you think he'll graduate with the rest of us?"

"He might," said Seamus dismissively. "I don't think Dumbledore will make him repeat a year, especially if he's a victim of something awful."

"Bandwagon," reminded Dean.

"I said if," replied Seamus.

"Malfoy's missing," observed Ginny lightly.

"What?"

"Malfoy," she repeated. "He's not with Zabini. He's not here at all."

The boys scanned the length of the Slytherin dining table. There wasn't a platinum blond head to be found.

"Was he here at all, today?" asked Neville.

"I don't remember seeing him," said Dean. "But I wasn't exactly looking."

"What are we looking for?" asked Ron, taking a seat next to Ginny.

"We're trying to figure out where Malf—Harry!"

Harry gave Ginny a small smile before sitting down next to Ron and turning to look at Blaise Zabini. "So he's really back."

"Yeah," said Ginny.

"Just in time to make you look better by comparison," smirked Seamus. "Have you finally decided you need to eat like the rest of us?"

"I just got him to leave the room," said Ron. "Let's not push it."

Harry mumbled "very funny" before starting to fill up his plate. His appetite had yet to return, but his self-hatred had decreased a notch. "What do we know about Zabini?" he asked.

"You may not want to ask Ginny or Seamus that question—they'll give you conspiracy theories," said Dean.

"Shut up," said Ginny. "We don't know much more than we did before" she told Harry. "Just that he's back."

"And that he's eating dinner without Malfoy," said Dean. "That has to be a first in seven years, right? I wouldn't be surprised if Malfoy was behind the entire thing."

"Now who's speculating," said Seamus.

"I said I wouldn't be surprised, not that he actually did anything."

"No chance," said Ginny. "I was the one who told him Zabini was back, and he went dashing for Dumbledore's office like his life depended on it."

"Maybe it did," Dean joked ominously. "Maybe he's in Dumbledore's office right now about to be suspended."

"He's in the Head's Common Room," interjected Harry. "Ron and I were just there."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," said Ron dryly. "Harry wanted to see if Dumbledore had told Malfoy anything about Hermione while he was there."

"Why would he do that?" asked Ginny flatly.

"Why wouldn't he? It's not like he's bothered telling us how she's getting on," shot Harry. "Dumbledore stopped making any sense some three years ago; there's no reason I should go about as if he's a rational being."

"Fighting irrationality with irrationality," said Seamus. "Sounds promising."

"Did he know anything?" asked Neville.

Ron gave Neville a look that answered his question before Harry vocalized it. "No," said Harry, taking his plate and loading it with some potatoes. "Turns out he never made it to Dumbledore's office."

"Really?" asked Ginny. "Then Dumbledore didn't really talk to Zabini all that much, did he? How'd Malfoy look?"

"Why do you care?" asked Ron, mouth full.

"Just curious."

Ron shrugged. "Miserable as usual."

"Hermione's never going to talk to me again," blurted Harry. The group exchanged a mixed look of discomfort and worry before each chimed in to make him feel better. "No, no that's not true," and "Of course she will" were the two most popular responses, but a shared pause revealed the unrealistic nature of their comforts, and urged them to provide a more realistic compromise.

"She's going to need time, mate," said Seamus.

"But she'll come around," said Neville. "It's Hermione."

"It's you," said Ginny. "She's going to miss you eventually."

"How long till Eventually?"

Ginny offered Harry a small, insecure smile. "A while?"

"Years," said Harry. "I mean, it's my fault she's blind forever."

"You don't know that, yet," said Ron sternly.

"Yeah, Harry, don't say things like that," said Dean. "It's bad luck."

"Well she left blind and she hasn't been back in a week—what am I supposed to think?"

"Hope that there's another reason for it, mate," said Seamus. "I know you're not used to it and you don't like it, but all you can do right now is hope."

* * *

Draco's stomach was protesting loudly his latest decision to skip dinner. He'd managed to eat a large breakfast earlier in the day, before Blaise had made it to the Great Hall, and it had sustained him through lunch. But he'd fallen asleep over Important Modern Magical Discoveries sometime around four in the afternoon, and woken up far too late to beat Blaise to the Great Hall and back.

It wasn't like Draco to avoid anyone, but he just couldn't shake away the feeling that Blaise was up to something—something bigger than just trying to get Draco back on a more proper Slytherin track. Something was different about Blaise, and he couldn't figure out what it was. It wasn't just his changed physique or the fact that he didn't tell him where he'd been the past few months; something in Blaise's inherent character had changed.

For the next several hours, Draco tried to continue reading about ocular anatomy. Around eleven, when he could no longer stand his hunger, Draco made his way to the Kitchens and was presented with the bounty of untouched leftovers from dinner. Draco would have normally demanded that the house elves cook up something new—he was not one for hours-old food—but his hunger was too rampant to complain. He helped himself to three servings, and took a large buttermilk cookie on his way out. He was so satisfied he even smiled at a house elf before leaving, though he did not thank her.

Draco was finishing up his cookie when he reached the large portrait of the old wizard, who had fallen asleep in his chair and was drooling on his own shoulder. Draco was about to wake the wizard and inform him on how disgusting he was when he slept when he heard voices coming from the other side of the portrait. He glanced at the clock down the hall, and registered that he'd been away for only a little over an hour.

Draco put the last piece of cookie in his mouth and brushed his hands off before taking out his wand and quietly placing his ear to the portrait. He couldn't distinguish what was being said, but there was one voice he'd recognize anywhere. He only regretted that it seemed others were present, too.

Draco leaned away from the portrait and scowled. He did not want to deal with Harry Potter and The Other Useless Gryffindors so late at night.

"Oy," he drawled at the portrait. The old wizard woke up briefly, immediately wiping the drool from the corner of his mouth. "Password?" he mumbled, barely keeping his eyes open.

"Whistling wombat," said Draco, and the portrait swung forward.

"I think it'll be best if we all just went back to bed and dealt with this tomorrow."

"How in Merlin's name did you fools get in here?" snarled Draco.

Ginny Weasley, who had voiced the last suggestion to go to bed, turned to look at Draco. "Malfoy," she said, in a tone much softer than what Draco was used to. He had barely noted her teary eyes and flushed cheeks before she turned her back to him and cleared her throat. "Malfoy, we're on our way out," she said, in a much sturdier voice.

"That doesn't answer my question," said Draco dryly. He heard the youngest Weasley scoff before Seamus Finnigan shot "she said we're leavin'."

"I'm not going anywhere," said Harry from the couch, and Draco couldn't possibly understand how he hadn't realized Scarface was sporting a bloody nose.

"Harry, it's late," said Parvati solemly.

"I said no."

"There's nothing you can do now!" bursted Ron.

"Calm down—" started Dean.

"—You knew this was how it was going to be, what did you expect?!"

"Stop yelling," snarled Parvati. Ginny mumbled her agreement, cut short by Harry's heated reply to Ron's last question.

Draco's patience was running dangerously thin. He looked at the intruding Gryffindors, all clad in their night wear, and did his best not to conjure a hex.

"What the hell are you all doing here?" he snarled again, tightening the grip on his wand. He glanced back at his desk—the pile of books remained untouched.

"That's it," said an equally frustrated Ron, not to Draco, but to his best friend. "_Petrificus Totalus!_"

"Ron!" yelled Ginny, as Harry's body slid stiffly from the couch onto the ground.

"What's your problem?" yelled Parvati, followed by a stern "That wasn't necessary, " by Neville.

"If you hadn't done it, I would have in about five more seconds," said Seamus. He and Dean bent over to pick up Harry. "Sorry, mate," said Dean. "It's for your own good."

Ron pushed passed Draco on his angry way out, murmuring angrily about Harry's inability to take a hint.

Dean, Seamus, and now Neville followed him, carefully carrying Harry between them with Parvati fussing closely behind. Ginny stalled near Draco.

He noticed, of course, and fixed her with a harsh glare. His question hadn't been answered in all the fuss, and it had only served to shorten his temper.

"You haven't answered me Weasley," he snarled. "Why were you dirty lot in my common room?"

Ginny looked like she was about to respond, but the sadness that Draco had witnessed earlier seemed to prevent her. The corners of her mouth quivered downward, and she looked away, shaking her head.

"I'm waiting," Draco pressed harshly.

"You first," bit Ginny, glaring at him. "You weren't at dinner, were you?"

"Who punched Potter in the face?" deflected Draco.

"Did you and Zabini have a row?" she pushed. "Have you been avoiding your only friend?"

"No, I haven't," said Draco smoothly. "I'm not fighting with him and I'm not avoiding him. Why were you all here? How did you get in?"

Ginny wasn't listening. "It's not like Slytherin's dynamic duo to miss an opportunity to saunter the halls together or show off their reunion at dinner."

Draco looked at her incredulously. "I fell asleep, Weasley, give it a rest."

"Do you know where he's been since Christmas break?"

"Are you dumb enough to think I'd share that information with you if I had it?"

"So you don't know," assessed Ginny. "Interesting."

Draco gave her a small smirk, just to throw her off. Her briefly furrowed brow let him know it had worked. "Your turn," he reminded, wondering why he was playing nice with a Weasley.

"We had the password," she said tiredly. "How else could we get in, Malfoy?"

"What were you filth doing here?"

"Are you dumb enough to think I'd share that information with you?" mimicked Ginny.

"You'd better."

"Or what, Malfoy?" she asked, and Draco grabbed her painfully by the arm.

"Don't test me," he growled. "I know you lot love to get together and plan heroic deeds that put you all stupidly close to death. By all means, continue doing so—can't say I'd miss any of you. But keep it out of my common room."

Ginny tried pulling her arm out of Draco's grip. "Is that what you think we were doing? Don't know if you've heard, but Voldemort's dead."

Draco's grip softened. "You and I both know that doesn't mean the problems are gone."

Ginny narrowed her eyes in surprise and suspicion. "Doesn't it?"

Draco was about to tell her she wasn't a very good liar in the most offensive way he could muster, and that it was easy to see she knew something more about what was brewing at large. But almost as soon as scorn had settled into his features, it was abruptly abandoned for the worried look a shock of realization engenders. The obvious had finally registered.

"It's about Granger," he breathed; glad he'd had the sense not to call her by her first name.

"Seriously that just occurred to you?" asked Ginny, rubbing the spot on her arm where Draco's grip had been.

"What do you know?" he asked.

"You of all Slytherins—" began Ginny, but Draco cut in with an impatient "Weasley."

"What do you care?" she said grudgingly.

"Why do you care whether or not I eat dinner with Zabini?"

Ginny paused, and seemed to be sizing him up when Draco, in his frustration, resorted to petty threat. "Tonight, Weasley, or I'll write you all up for being out of bed afterhours."

"Dumbledore knows we're up," said Ginny sharply. "You prat," she finished, turning to walk out. Draco was about to take hold of her again when she said, "Let her rest, or I'll hex you into next year."

The words buzzed in his ears, and he couldn't seem to properly grasp their meaning without blatant confirmation.

"She's back?" asked Draco, an odd pit forming in his stomach.

"Ten points for Slytherin," Ginny mocked flatly. When the portrait swung open, she turned to face Draco. "I meant what I said, Malfoy. If you give her any trouble tonight, you'll have me to deal with."

The portrait closed behind Ginny, and all Draco could do was stare after her. It was at that moment, after registering the absolute sense of dread this news brought him, that Draco realized what was different about his best friend. Blaise Zabini was no longer someone Draco Malfoy could trust.

"Is he still petrified?" asked Ginny incredulously after entering the near-empty Gryffindor common room and spotting Harry's stiff body on the couch. "Come on," she said, brandishing her wand to solve the problem.

"Don't," said Dean. "Look at your brother."

Ron was sitting at the far corner of the room, angrily looking out the window and tenderly holding a bloodied handkerchief to his nose. Without turning around, he briefly held out the handkerchief so that Ginny could better understand what Dean meant.

"Harry did that?"

"The second he was unpetrified," said Dean.

Ginny shook her head. "Well I guess it's only fair," she offered. Ron responded crassly by giving her the middle finger.

Ginny went to get a closer look at Harry. "Who healed his nose?"

"Parvati," answered Dean.

"Where is she? Where is everybody?"

"Seamus and Neville went to sleep. Parvati's up there getting Harry's bed ready. What took you so long?"

Ginny hesitated. "I was talking to Malfoy."

"Anything good?"

"Nothing that could help us," said Ginny, lifting Harry's heavy legs to sit under them, incorrectly thinking it would be less work than walking over to a free chair.

"Of course not," said Dean. "It could never be that easy."

"We need to be smart about this one," said Ginny. "We're dealing with Slytherins, here."

"We don't know that for sure," said Ron from the other side of the room.

"We don't?" said Dean. "I'd bet my life's savings that we are. In fact, I'd narrow it down to just one: Malfoy."

"Don't be simplistic," said Ron. He got up from his chair and walked over to the other two. "We can't go into this so narrowly."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but Ron's right," said Ginny, readjusting herself under Harry. "Malfoy thought we were scheming in the common room—"

"That's daft," commented Ron. "As if we'd scheme where he lives."

"Right, but just in case that was an informed comment—"

"There's no way," said Dean.

"I said just in case," repeated Ginny. "I reminded him Voldemort was dead and he said something about that not being the end of our problems."

"So he knows!" said Dean. Realizing his tone was too loud, he whispered violently, "What more proof do we need?"

"It wasn't a threat," said Ginny. "He didn't say that like a villain twirling his mustache. He said it seriously—like we both knew something that was supposed to be secret, and that it meant trouble. It was—like he was on our side."

"Maybe he was just referencing the Quiddich World Cup?" shrugged Ron.

"Yeah, no way you got all that just because he said it wasn't over," said Dean.

"I still don't think he's involved," said Ron. "Remember former death eaters killed his mother."

"And he didn't even go to her funeral. Probably asked them to do it himself," said Dean, right before Parvati appeared at the foot of the stairs leading to the boy's dormitory.

"Bed's ready," she said, before a grumpy Seamus pushed past her.

"You're not going to unpetrify him?" Ginny asked Semaus as he relieved her from the weight of Harry's legs.

"Not tonight," he answered gruffly.

"Harry needs to calm down a bit," said Dean, beginning to lift Harry's weight by the shoulders.

"He's not staying like that all night!" said Parvati, walking over to them, wand in hand.

Both Dean and Seamus dropped Harry back onto the sofa and took out their own wands.

"We already went through this, Parvati," said Dean tiredly. "You unpetrify him, he's probably going to punch Seamus this time, and then I'm going to have to petrify him."

"Harry's off his rocker tonight," said Seamus. "I really don't want to deal with it."

"Seamus, she's right, he can't stay like that" said Ginny. "Besides, it's not right to turn your wand on a friend," Ginny chastised. "It's poor manners and erodes trust."

Seamus relented, mostly because he simply wanted to get back to the comfort of his bed. He walked over to make eye contact with Harry. "Look mate, I'm really sorry I petrified you. You've been—weird—for days now, so if you could just stop that, it would be great."

Ron rolled his eyes and spoke to Harry himself. "We're going to unpetrify you, but if you act up again—it's four against one. We don't want to do this to you, but you need to stop being a prat."

"_Finite Incantatem_," said Seamus.

Draco raised his hand to knock on Hermione's door, but opted for taking a deep breath and a step back instead. Rubbing his brow in stressed thought, he leaned against the banister. There was a disconcerting part of him that both feared and wished that what the youngest Weasley had told him was a lie. So much weighed on her return. Was she blind? If Weasley's tears were any indication, then the answer was a heart-wrenching yes. And for all that he had read and learned—he still couldn't explain how medi-witches and healers couldn't cure her non-magical blindness.

And if she wasn't blind, what had taken her so long to get back? Even in the best-case scenario, incidentally also the most unlikely, where Hermione was in perfect health and was simply made to rest all those days, there was still Blaise. Now that he knew what was going on—would he ruin it? Would he out him to Hermione to prevent Slytherin from disgrace, or something like that?

Would Blaise hurt her?

The thought made Draco immediately wish she were as far away as possible. It suddenly became very clear to him that he was no good for Hermione Granger. He hadn't really noticed it before because it used to be a good thing for him. For years, he sought to tease her, anger her, knock her down a peg, get her into trouble; being Draco Malfoy helped him in those endeavors. But now that he cared for her, wanted her completely unharmed and happy—being himself was his biggest obstacle. Next to him, it was a guarantee that Hermione was going to get hurt. Leaving her would probably be the best thing he could do for her. Perhaps Pomfrey did know what she was talking about.

But Draco didn't want to leave her. In fact, he wanted to be with her as much as possible; it wasn't in him to be a selfless fool. He was Slytherin after all.

Draco ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He needed to figure out how to protect Hermione from Blaise, and all of Slytherin, without losing her. No, losing her was not an option.

His heartbeat sped up as the answer hit him. He had to tell her. He had to tell her about the bet with Blaise, how it was made at the beginning of the year—before they became serious. How he's tried to call it off, but Blaise wouldn't budge. How Blaise might do something to her, because of him. If he worded it just right, she wouldn't leave him—how could she? Gryffindors were suckers for do-gooders, and coming clean is definitely something do-gooders do.

But it wasn't that simple. There were things about the story that Draco simply didn't want Hermione to know: what was at stake, for example, or why they had chosen her. Draco wasn't exactly sure what conclusions Hermione had come to in the past few months about the kind of human being he was, but something told him she wouldn't respond well to his former determination to deflower her—and all for the sake of a reputation he knew she never respected. Nor would she find it flattering that she was considered enough of a prude to prove a formidable challenge.

Still, if she was going to hear about the bet at all, it needed to be from him. If Hermione heard it from him first, he'd be able to do more damage control. Lord knew Slytherin was tactful when it came to humiliation—the damage they could inflict on an unsuspecting mind was endless. Draco wasn't sure he could help himself as much if Blaise got to her first.

Draco looked wearily at Hermione's door. There was no doubt he didn't want to tell her about the bet. But with Blaise back, well, he didn't seem to have a choice. He took a deep breath in an attempt to fill the deep pit forming in his stomach. He pushed himself off the banister and took a step towards Hermione's door.

His fist was raised, poised for knocking, when the door suddenly opened. Draco quickly put his fist down, and felt his breath leave him as his eyes locked with Hermione's.

They were brown again. Brown like chocolate, brown like the rich earth, brown like everything he knew to be good in this miserable world. Draco had only braced himself for bad news. He was ready to face a struggling, unadapted Hermione trying to find her way to the door and possibly injuring herself on the way. But this good news left him unable to mask the immense relief he felt. His eyes softened, his smile grew, and his breathing returned to him in ragged, slow excitement. He took her face in his hands and kissed her once on the lips.

"You can see," he checked, just to make sure he wasn't celebrating too early.

"Y-yes," said Hermione, looking at him oddly. Draco missed it, because he laughed at that moment, before kissing her forehead and then engulfing her in his arms. He buried his face in her wet curls, the scent of her shampoo still strong, and let out a sigh so deep it sounded like a growl.

Hermione's arms instinctively wrapped around Draco, too surprised to say anything.

"You are never playing rugby again," said Draco, and that seemed to give Hermione the push she needed to formulate words.

"Why not?" she asked, a little offended. Pulling back just enough to look at Draco, she reasoned "I scored more than anybody—"

"That's—debatable."

"How," she asked, pulling back just a little more.

"Well they went easier on you—"

"Oh did they?"

Draco caught himself. "Well, except for Potter—"

"Others tackled me, too," she cut quickly. "I still managed to score before you told them to stop passing it to me."

"It doesn't matter," said Draco, a little frustrated. "This isn't about your skill in the game, Hermione."

"Then what is it about?" she asked, slowly pulling herself completely out of his arms.

Noticing the distance she put between them, Draco clenched his jaw. "Since when is rugby a passion of yours?" he accused.

"It's not about passion—"

"Then what is it?" he asked. "Why are you so bent on playing again?"

"I'm not bent on playing again, I'm bent on not being _forbidden_ from playing again," she snapped. "There's a difference, you know."

"Oh," said Draco dryly. "This is a power play in your head isn't it?"

"It's not a power play, Draco. I just think it's unfair that you think the reason this happened to me was because I was there, on the field, playing rugby."

"It wouldn't've happened if you hadn't been."

"Of course not, but it also wouldn't've happened if Harry hadn't been playing, too. I didn't do anything wrong, he did! Why don't you prevent him from ever playing rugby again?"

"I nearly prevented him from living after what he did to you!" shouted Draco, a frustrated pink tinting his ears. "Do you seriously think I blame you?"

Hermione opened her mouth to answer him, but faltered after catching the slight hurt that flashed in his eyes. Sighing, she dropped her face into her hands and turned to sit on her bed. "I'm sorry, Draco," she said, looking up at him and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's been a long night, and I'm afraid I'm just a little defensive right now."

Draco fought the urge to reply dryly, and instead walked over to her desk and took a seat.

"You missed quite the show," said Hermione.

Draco looked over at her, still a little sour. "Oh yeah?"

Hermione nodded. "They all followed me from Dumbledore's office, even though I made it clear I didn't want company. But Harry really wanted to walk me back, and the rest came along because, well, they had their own questions I guess."

"Does that mean Potter knows our password?" asked Draco.

"Yeah. We'll have to change it tomorrow. I'll take care of it."

"Who gave Potter the bloody nose?" asked Draco.

Hermione smiled in spite of herself at the memory. "Ron," she said.

Draco's eyebrows shot up. "Weasley knows how to make a fist? I'm impressed," he said. "Though I kind of hoped it had been your doing."

"I barely talked to him," Hermione replied quickly. "I just pretended he wasn't there."

"How mature," smirked Draco, and easily caught the pillow Hermione threw his way. "What made Weasley see the light?" he laughed.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It didn't take enlightenment to get Ron to punch Harry."

"I beg to differ, but go on."

Hermione hesitated. "There was a group discussion going on," she said tactfully, "and afterwards Harry tried to stay behind. Ron started trying to convince him to leave, and before I knew it, they were screaming and Ron had punched Harry in the face."

"_Let her rest, Harry."_

"_Don't get involved—"_

"_She's had a rough day, mate."_

_Harry turned back to Hermione. "If you could just let me explain—"_

"_I don't want to talk to you," said Hermione curtly. "Leave," she bit out, turning to go up the stairs to her bedroom._

_Sensing that his chance to talk to Hermione was slipping away, Harry quickly went after her and took hold of her arm. "Please," he began, just as Hermione had yanked her arm out of his hold. "Just five minutes."_

_Ron walked over to Harry and mumbled "Come on, mate. You'll see her tomorrow."_

_The idea that he'd have to wait another night to talk to Hermione renewed Harry's sense of desperation. In a frantic move, he walked up the few steps Hermione had advanced on him, and reached out for her with both hands. He spun her around, a little harder than he'd meant to, and was about to apologize for it when he felt Ron force himself between them and slightly push him away._

"_Don't" said Ron tensely._

_Too surprised, Harry just gaped at his red-headed best friend._

"_You can't go around grabbing her like that. You've inflicted yourself enough physically, don't you think?"_

"_What is that supposed to mean?" asked Harry quickly._

"_You sent her to St. Mungo's, Harry. Give her a night to herself." _

"_Ron," said Hermione, but Harry interrupted._

"_I just want to talk to her, I'm not looking to hurt her."_

"_Of course not, you did that already."_

"_Guys," said Neville from the common room, but it was ineffective._

"_You think I did that on purpose?!" shouted Harry._

"_It sure looked like you meant to do damage when you tackled her!"_

"_You didn't even see it!"_

"_She didn't have the ball, Harry! I don't need to have seen it—"_

"_And you think I'd do that again?! Is that why you're standing there?"_

"_No one thinks you'll do that again," said Seamus sincerely, and both Harry and Ron realized that he and Neville had slowly been making their way over to them. Oddly enough, it only served to increase the tension between the two._

"_Yeah?" said Harry. "Well I'm not sure Ron here knows that."_

"_I don't," he replied easily. "You're grabbing her like she has to listen to you __**tonight**__! It can't be in her own time, can it? She doesn't want to talk to you right now, deal with it!"_

"_Easy for you to say, you've never cared for Hermione," Harry shot bitterly._

"_I NEVER CARED FOR HERMIONE?" shouted Ron, and before Hermione could voice her growing frustration with being talked about like she wasn't in the room, she saw Ron's arm pull back, missing her face by inches, and lunge forward to make a painful contact with Harry's face._

"_RON!" said Hermione, taking hold of the offensive arm and looking over his shoulder to see Harry on the floor, struggling out of the arms of a frantic Parvati, with a blotch of red slowly growing under his nose._

_Seamus immediately stepped in front of Ron and held him back._

"_I should've done that a week ago!" said Ron as he struggled to get Hermione to let go of his arm and to look at Harry past Seamus' form. "The only reason I didn't was because you were so miserable, but since you've decided to be such a sod lately, I don't feel so bad!"_

"_I only wanted to talk to her!" shouted Harry, slightly distracted by his bleeding nose._

"_I don't want to fucking talk to you, Potter!" shouted Hermione, so sternly that Ron stopped struggling and Harry, now standing, stopped wiping the blood. "Ever!" she finished, her mouth twitching into a frown._

_Realizing that if she stayed any longer she'd lose control of herself, she let go of Ron's arm and steadily made her way up the stairs._

"_Hermione—" began Harry._

"_You guys know the way out," was all she said before entering her room and angrily locking it._

Draco sighed. "I'd love to punch Potter in the face."

Hermione shook her head. "You missed your chance," she said. "Where were you?"

"Kitchens. Missed dinner."

"Why?" asked Hermione, and Draco remembered the decision he'd made no more than ten minutes ago just outside the room.

If there was ever a moment where telling her everything would fit casually into the conversation, this was it. He'd missed dinner because he was avoiding Blaise. The natural follow-up questions would reveal it all.

"I fell asleep over my research," he said.

"Research?" asked Hermione, panic settling into her features. "Dumbledore said there hadn't been anything major assigned in any of my classes—"

"Oh, no," said Draco, hoping his heavy conscience wasn't obvious. "It wasn't for class." He rose from the chair to avoid fidgeting tellingly in it, and went to sit on the bed.

"For what, then?"

"Your condition," he said, after an unsure pause. He took note that the oversized white t-shirt she was wearing couldn't possibly be hers. "I wanted to know more about it in case the healers at St. Mungo's were as incompetent as Old Bat Pomfrey."

"Draco," Hermione chastised. "Madame Pomfrey did all that she could."

"Right," said Draco sarcastically.

"And you know more than she does?"

"I don't want to talk about what she did or didn't do," said Draco dismissively. "I want to know what was wrong with you." A wave of frustration swept through him. "I've looked at everything I could get my hands on here at Hogwarts, and there's just nothing I've come across that'll explain why Pomfrey couldn't heal your blindness herself. It wasn't magically induced," he continued, "so that entire spectrum should be ruled out unless there's something I wasn't aware of. Did Potter leak out magic like 3 year-old or something?"

"No he didn't _leak_ _out_—"

"So you shouldn't've been sent to St. Mungo's," said Draco, as if a mistake had been made by the powers that be. "The source was your head trauma, and the parts of the eye anatomy most likely to get injured by head trauma are the retina or the optical nerve. Both damages could've been easily healed by Pomfrey or, you know, a competent medi-witch. Heck, the potions and wand work aren't even difficult. I could've healed you mysel—"

Hermione's lips had made an urgent connection with his at that moment, taking his face into her hands and shutting her eyes tightly. Not having expected it, Draco's eyes remained open for a few seconds before he gathered his wits, wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. Thoughts of ocular science and confessing about hurtful bets fled from his mind. Having her lips brush so fervently against his chased away all academic curiosity and soothed his unease, encouraging his more animalistic instincts to the forefront of his decision-making.

And then, as if he'd been starved of her for years, Draco roughly deepened his kiss; unable to hold back and ready to devour every bit of her and surrender every bit of himself. He shifted her weight so that he could easily lay her on the bed, his movements swift and feral. Swallowing her gasp and the shaky sigh that followed, he brought his hand up to her cheek, dragged it into her chestnut curls, and took a firm hold of them. He tore his mouth away from hers and took tactfully to her neck. The pressure behind his navel increased as he heard a strained, light moan escape her throat.

Hermione managed to part her legs and allow Draco to settle possessively between them. He pressed himself against her as much as he could, willing himself to remain tactful as he felt her tug his shirt out of his pants. Her hands slipped under it, and slowly brushed their way up his chest and down again. After she unbuttoned his shirt with slow, patient hands and cast it aside, Draco's mouth returned to hers with a slow, rhythmic depth that made Hermione's toes curl.

He slid his own hands under her t-shirt, and was visibly surprised when she lifted her arms over her head. He pulled back slowly and gave her a questioning look, which she replied to with an amused smile.

"Well what do you know," said Draco huskily, lifting the shirt over her head and discarding it on the floor. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you missed me, Hermione Granger."

"You have no idea," she said, craning her neck to capture his lips. Draco immediately leaned into the kiss, his hands making their slow way up to her breasts.

His hands were cold through the fabric, and Hermione instantly felt her heartbeat quicken. She hoped he wouldn't notice, but the small smirk that interrupted their kiss informed her otherwise.

He began to trail small kisses down her neck and onto her chest, allowing Hermione the time to become very aware of her undergarments. Momentarily scolding herself for not having checked earlier, she glanced down to take a look at what she was wearing. To her relief, it was a blue-laced number without any padding. His lips were now torturously hovering over the lace, looking up at her with a knowing, haughty squint in his eyes.

Smirking just a bit, he pressed his lips to the fabric covering her nipple before slowly crawling one of his fingers up to slide the strap off her shoulder. He trailed his finger back down along the strap and toyed with the fabric of the cup before gently pulling it down.

His lips were warm and his tongue was surprisingly gentle. He looked up at her; pleased when he saw her bite her lip and loll her head back. This was the farthest Hermione had let him go, and he was going to make sure she liked it enough to let him do it again. He needed to know that he could have her like this in the future: uninhibited, hot and vulnerable to his touch. His own blood had never rushed south so quickly. Something about her heavy-lidded eyes, watching him intently with curiosity, and then flashing with inexperienced lust, made his chest swell with something he'd never felt before.

"I love you," he said without thinking, freezing once he realized what had come out of his mouth.

Hermione had also frozen. Her hands in his hair, her head tilted toward the headboard, Hermione could barely breathe.

"What?" she whispered in disbelief, looking down at him.

"I," said Draco, quickly searching the English language for a reasonable substitute for what he'd just recklessly communicated. "I, um—"

"You love me?" asked Hermione, moving to sit up. Draco nervously released a breath of air he didn't know he had been holding at hearing her repeat what he'd said, and lifted himself off of her.

A familiar look came across Hermione's face at that moment, and Draco wasn't sure how he felt about it. It was logical and calculating, and it soon required her to pace the length of the bed, back and forth.

"Look, Hermione," began Draco, _let's just pretend I never said that_, he wanted to say, but realized he was better off not saying anything at all and settled for watching her mull things over.

"Did you mean it?" asked Hermione, only ceasing her pacing and looking at him when he didn't answer. "Well?"

Draco opened his mouth to respond, but since he didn't want to, he didn't.

"I've never been in love before," she said, resuming her pacing. "I wouldn't know it if it hit me in the face," she defended.

Draco's lips parted in slight shock. He was suddenly very aware of the situation—how cruelly ironic it was that Hermione, the first girl he'd ever sincerely declared himself to, was not sure she loved him back. His entire life, Draco had always felt significantly less than his girlfriend. Had he just assumed that whatever he felt, Hermione would feel the same, if not more?

Hermione was rambling—something about how it was perfectly logical that she couldn't respond to him immediately—and Draco, still in awe, turned to grab his shirt. He didn't bother putting it on.

"You're leaving," noted Hermione nervously. "Why are you leaving?"

Draco looked at her. "We both need rest," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Draco, wait—"

"Goodnight, Hermione," said Draco, and closed the door lightly.

Hermione thought about going after him, but seeing as she didn't have anything new to say, realized it could only make things worse. So Hermione remained rooted to her spot until she heard the door to Draco's room shut. Relieved it wasn't an angry slam, she pensively made way back to the bed and replayed the last five minutes of her life.

She had so much thinking to do.

**Author's Apology:**

I can't begin to express just how sorry I am to have left this story as unattended as I did. It was never my intention to leave any of you waiting this long. To be completely honest, I have no excuse. I may have been busy, and there was some serious writer's block in there, too, but I could've tried more. I'm sorry I didn't.

And you readers are so absolutely GREAT that it just makes me feel worse about myself. Throughout the years of my absence, I still received reviews and private messages encouraging me to continue. I want to tell you all right now that I've read each and every single one. To those whom I replied by promising I'd "update soon," I'm sincerely sorry. I did not ever forget about you. I started this chapter multiple times, and many times thought I was close to finishing it before I just trashed the whole thing.

Before, I felt my writing was mostly done for myself. I wrote because in the worlds I created, I had control. This time around, I wrote for you. Not for your reviews (though I love your feedback and encouragement), or to get away from my own life, but to give you the escape I myself still seek for every now and again. I hope you enjoyed this chapter (there are just two left!) and that whether you're reading this on your laptops or phones or ipads, that you're doing well.

Oh, and in response to one review many years ago: Purple. (See? I do read every single one.)


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